


Reflect Like Shattered Glass

by rainingnostalgia



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, famous!harry, i apologise for the significant lack of niall/liam in this fic, single dad!louis, very very slight haylor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-04
Updated: 2013-12-19
Packaged: 2017-12-14 00:04:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 45,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/830383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainingnostalgia/pseuds/rainingnostalgia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's hard having to be with someone else when the right one comes along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Spillage

 

“-his goggles are on the kitchen table and when the dryer has finished you need to pack the towels into the bag. Take an extra pair of clothes just in case and make sure he doesn't catch a cold – Malik! Are you even listening?” Louis pauses, hands on his hips in an extremely feminine manner, waiting for the other boy to pay attention to him. Today Zayn agreed to take Oli swimming and Louis is sure that he's made a mistake because as much as he loves his best friend, Zayn is quite possibly the least reliable person in the world. Okay so maybe that's an exaggeration.

“Louis you've already told me all this, right after you make me promise not to let him take his armbands off, remember? Chill, it's going to be fine. I've looked after him loads of times,” Zayn's attention deviates back to the TV and it is true that Zayn's babysat Oli loads of times, but he's never taken him _swimming_ before and swimming is just a world of water related accidents waiting to happen.

“Yeah, yeah, just remember to take his inhaler okay? It's by-”

“-the night stand in your room and there's a spare one in the medical draw. Yes, Louis I know. Hey, aren't you late for work?” When Zayn finally manages to pry his gaze from the colourful characters moving about onscreen, he notices the dark splatter on his flatmate's jumper and the half empty rucksack that is hanging from his fingers as he tears in and out of his room haphazardly chucking things inside.

“Thanks for reminding me, asshole.” Louis swears, arm reaching inside his bag to retrieve one of Oli's toys which he accidentally packed in his frenzy to get out the door. Extracting the toy truck, he dives down and searches under the coffee table where he knows Oli dropped a load of colouring crayons the night before. Fumbling around, his fingers grasp a stick of wax and he proceeds to put it in his rucksack not caring which colour he's got. He really doesn't have time to worry about that, not when he's already ten minutes late for his shift and it's going to take him another ten minutes to walk to the coffee shop.

Throwing the strap over his shoulder and simultaneously pulling his battered grey converse onto his feet, his head turns to the bathroom where a tiny figure emerges, small fists rubbing at their eyes.

“Daddy?” Oli has the sweater Zayn bought him for Christmas on and since Zayn bought it, naturally it's two sizes too big for the four year old and completely drowns the toddler.

Louis has a washcloth in his hand, scrubbing meticulously at stain on his jumper where Oli had managed to wipe orange juice from breakfast earlier. “Yes, baby?”

“Are you leaving now?” the soft pad of his bare feet echo as the little boy wanders over to his father, wrapping his tiny arms around Louis knees, face buried in the red denim of Louis' jeans. Zayn's watching from the sofa, a fond look in his eyes as he sees the interaction. Louis leans down and gently picks up the boy and positions him on his hip.

“I'm sorry, love, but I have to go now. Daddy has to work.” Louis says before pressing a kiss to two chubby cheeks and brushing Oli's fringe from his blue eyes. His son is a spitting image of himself, all wispy brunette hair and sparkling sapphire eyes, and Louis can't ignore the feeling of pride as he looks at his little boy because Oli is his absolute world.

His looks aren't the only thing Oli inherited because he's soon clasping his petite hands behind Louis' neck in an attempt to stop the elder from leaving. “No. Stay with me and uncle Zayn. We're going swimming!” and Louis' not sure whether it's a good or bad thing that Oli is just as stubborn as himself. Walking over to the sofa, he carefully sits Oli down next to Zayn who winds a protective arm around the boy and pulls him into his side.

“Hey little man, are you going to say goodbye to Daddy so he can go to work?” Zayn says because he knows how hard it is for Louis to leave Oli and it's not something he likes watching so the quicker it's over, the better.

Louis leans down to embrace his boy and give him a peck on the forehead and the whispered “Bye Daddy,” makes his heart clench painfully in his chest.

“Bye baby. Be a good boy for Zayn, okay? Daddy will see you later, love you lots! Bye, Zayn!” and Louis' off and out the door because he knows that if he stayed in there any longer he wouldn't have been able to leave. Taking the stairs two at a time, he mentally makes a note to let the caretaker know that the lifts aren't working and then he's outside racing along the way to work because godammit he's so late and people are walking so slowly and getting in his way. It's safe to say that his day isn't going well.

 

∞∞∞

 

Louis barges into the coffee shop, one hand pressing against the stitch in his side and the other trying to salvage his hairdo which the wind managed to completely deconstruct. Rushing past the line of customers and behind the counter, he swaps his rucksack for his apron and prays that his boss isn't in yet and hasn't noticed his delayed absence. The coffee shop is busy today which isn't unusual and half the customers are watching him after his dramatic entrance. Louis wills his embarrassment away and turns to his co-worker.

“Sorry i'm late-”

“Zip it Tomlinson, I covered for you and now you owe me.” says Stan half jokingly as he throws a pad at Louis.

“Thanks mate -”

Stan really likes to interrupt, Louis thinks as he's cut off again with a, “Now's not the time to get mushy, we got people to serve. Get your arse in gear!” Rolling his eyes, Louis turns towards the counter as Stan clatters about behind him making orders.

His eyes land on a tall figure who's talking rapidly on the phone and is seemingly unaware that they're next in line.

Frowning slightly, because people should really be more attentive, Louis clears his throat softly. Catching the person's attention, all previous thoughts disappear from his mind as the figure turns around and Louis is captivated by a pair of emerald orbs and curly brown locks that really should be illegal. His endless legs are sheathed in skin tight skinny jeans and a grey jumper with beige elbow pads highlights his broad shoulders. This guy should really come with a warning sign, thinks Louis as he gives him an approving once over. The stranger pockets his phone and mumbles an apology as he steps forward and then Louis is sure that he's seen this person before.

“Two black coffees, one cappuccino, one tea and a ham and cheese toastie please.” The order is spoken in a deep, suave tone and Louis is still staring at this person because he's _sure_ that he knows them yet he can't place how. He's broken from his revere when the customer waves a hand slowly in front of his face, and crap, he probably looks like a gormless idiot right now. Snapping into action, he manages to spit out a “sorry, what was that?” before realising that he doesn't have a pen. Wanting nothing more than to hide away in the kitchen until this familiar figure goes away, Louis frantically checks his pockets for some sort of writing instrument. Coming up blank, he dives to his rucksack to retrieve the crayon he knows he packed this morning.

It's when he spots his battered old iPod in his bag that it finally clicks. He _has_ seen this person before. He's seen him on the music channel that Zayn watches incessantly. He's one of those boys from that band that sings about the hardships of love and other teenage drama; No Direction? One Direction? One Direction he thinks and he can feel this attractive stranger's gaze burning a hole into his neck.

Pulling out the crayon and straightening up, he's momentarily lost for words as he meets the boy's gaze.

“You ready now?” asks the boy, a hint of a smile behind his words as he humours Louis' flustered actions.

“Fire away,” Louis says breathily, trying to force down the desire to shamelessly flirt with this gorgeous boy.

“I'd like two black coffees-” Louis glances down to his pad to jot down the order and it's then that he realises that out of all the fucking crayons, he picked a _pink_ one. Fucking pink. His attempt to act nonchalant about it is thwarted as he flushes a rosy red, near matching the crayon, from neck to hairline. As if he wasn't already gay enough, he's taking this beautiful boy's order with a pink crayon. There are no words to describe his embarrassment. “-one cappuccino, one tea, a ham and cheese toastie and what would you suggest?”

“What? Oh erm, scones. The scones. They're great.” Louis inwardly curses himself as his voice comes out in a stutter and because “they're great” is possibly the worst way to convince someone to buy something. Congratulating himself on reaching new levels of embarrassment, Louis is about to try and diffuse the situation when the boy speaks again.

“That's settled then. I'll take two scones, to go, please. They best be some damn good scones...” the rumbling voice trails off as he bends down, fucking bends down because he's _that_ tall, to read Louis' name badge. “...Louis.”

If Louis was smitten before, he's practically keening now after hearing his name fall from the too pink to be natural lips. Laughing nervously, Louis can barely form the words to ask for a name in return, and scribbling the word “Harry” on the top of the order just solidifies everything because Louis cannot quite believe this is happening.

Turning into the kitchenette after muttering a quick “Won't be a mo” Louis gives himself a mental pat on the back for forming a decent sounding sentence to regain some sort of semblance, and comes face to face with a grinning Stan. As he brushes by, hands filled with a tray of various baked treats, Louis catches him say, “Forget about owing me. You've just made my morning. Atta boy!”

There's a blush painting Louis' cheeks as he makes the order. His fingers work their way around assorted kitchen utensils, brewing a perfect blend of coffee and heating up the scones and the toastie and the normalcy of this routine is enough to ground him because, heck, he's most certainly not freaking out about the fact that a member of a world famous boy band is in his workplace. Nope, not at all.

When the row of warm liquids are lined up on the tray in their polystyrene cups next to two paper parcels of heated food, Louis' fingers have stopped shaking and his nerves are finally calming down. Deftly balancing the tray, he places it on the counter and all it takes is an effortlessly brilliant mega-watt smile from Harry to crumble his walls of composure. His hands tremble as he reaches for the cash and he fumbles trying to put the money into the till. Louis can't remember the last time he was this flustered and honestly it's stupid he thinks because he is not some twelve year old fan girl and he should not be acting like this.

All goes to hell when he hands the boy his change.

Louis is not a clumsy person. Back when he had time, he used to be on the uni football team and his excellent hand eye coordination was responsible for many a goal, but now when he's confronted with a dazzling white smile and those ridiculously endearing dimples, his hand eye coordination just goes out the window as his elbow manages to catch the closest cup of coffee of the counter. Barking a string of expletives and apologies, he can only watch on in abject horror as the damage begins to unfold.

The cup rolls its way along the counter leaving a murky trail of burning coffee in its wake. Jumping back to grab the nearest tea towel, Louis begins to mop up the mess but it's too late. Rivulets of rich brown are running down the side of the counter and across the glass display of pastries and the cup is seconds away from toppling off the edge. Seeking to prevent the cup from landing on Harry's expensive looking suede boots, Louis' reflexes kick in as he darts a hand out to catch the now empty cup. Harry it seems has the same idea as his larger palm covers Louis and there's something so enthralling about the contrast in their skin tones; golden tan on pallid white. The contact of the their hands lasts for longer than expected and as if realising that, Harry jerks his arm backwards.

Harry also seems to be a clumsy person. He knocks the tray, causing the drinks to tremble and slosh violently inside their confines but nonetheless staying upright and of course Louis lurches forward to prevent them from tumbling over and repeating history. Only, luck has never been on his side and he stands back as the entire tray of goods goes crashing to the ground and drenching Harry in a mixture of hot tea and coffee in the process.

The noise in the coffee shop is reduced to the point where you can actually hear the drips of coffee slipping off the edge of the counter and everyone has turned to see the cause of the commotion. In the corner of his eye, Louis can see Stan's face the picture of pure alarm and panic but his own eyes are focused on Harry. The boy's features are grim as he lifts his drenched jumper sleeve and wrings it out, splatters of caffeinated drink decorating the floor.

Louis' arms hang limp by his sides and he raises his head defeatedly up to the ceiling, willing away the tears of frustration that are starting to form and he wonders whether he'd be in more or less trouble if he'd just stayed in bed this morning.


	2. Bond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's hard having to be with someone else when the right one comes along.

Louis regrets telling Zayn about the little incident at the coffee shop. 

It's been just over a week and the younger boy is still relentlessly raving on about it in a mix between sheer second hand embarrassment for Louis and disbelief that Louis spilt coffee over _Harry Styles_. You would think that a week is enough for something like that to blow over but apparently not since Louis has been the butt of too many Harry Styles related jokes over the past eight days by not only his flatmate but also his colleagues at work.

After cleaning up the mess, re-preparing his order, giving him his money back and profusely apologising to Harry, Louis forced Stan not to tell their boss and then proceeded to dub the accident “The Day That Shall Not Be Named”.

Louis considers himself good at blocking out unfortunate things from his memory but he can't seem to shake the shape of voluptuous tresses or shadowed dimples that form behind his eyelids at night. When he starts comparing strangers eyes to those glassy emerald marbles he starts to worry because he's a 20 year old uni student trying to hold down a coffee shop job to support himself and his 4 year old son and he doesn't need to add an infatuation with a teenage pop star to the mix. No thank you. 

 

∞∞∞

 

It's a drab Thursday morning that the curly haired boy of Louis' daydreams steps back into the coffee shop. Zayn's watching Oli back at their flat and Louis' tapping his pen against the counter, essay currently on hiatus as he hits a mental wall in the writing process, when the bell chimes above the door. 

It takes about 2.5 seconds for Louis to process that there are two pairs of feet standing before him and when he finally drags his attention from his copy of “The Turn of The Screw” his breath hitches in his throat and his eyes bulge obscenely from his head. In front of him are two figures, one distinctly recognisable with his roguish features and sparkling eyes and the other a slender, dainty, pretty girl with golden ringlets framing a pixie face.

Harry _fucking_ Styles and Taylor _fucking_ Swift.

The music industry's power couple - and boy is Louis glad he read Zayn's copy of _Heat_ magazine that was lying around their flat with the double page spread of Harry and Taylor – are standing within a metre of him. Before his mind can conjure up any reason as to why they're there, Harry's talking. A mellifluous tone wrapped around flowing words which bring back memories of their last encounter. Louis' thoughts must show on his face.

“We gotta stop meeting like this,” comes the easy ice breaker from Harry and somewhere in the deep recesses of Louis' frozen mind, he swears he picks up an underlying hint of flirtation. Brushing it off as over friendly, Louis manages to get his brain to mouth feed working again and he replies with an embarrassed, “ yeah, mate, we're wasting so much stock because of you,” followed quickly with a nervous chuckle.

Harry throws his head back and lets out a throaty laugh and Louis just wants to lick the pale expanse of skin exposed at his throat. Taylor's confused smile would be enough to charm Louis if he swung that way and he can't help but notice how beautiful she is in person. 

“Do you two know each other?” she queries politely and her American accent just seems so out of place in the gritty London atmosphere. 

“Yeah, Louis served me last time I was here. Brilliant service.” and there's a sarcastic but friendly lilt in his words that make Louis blush and he can't help but reciprocate the eye contact to the taller boy. Blissfully unaware of the private joke, Taylor moves along the glass counter to view the boards up and above Louis' head which display the menu. When Harry trails along behind her, Louis notices their joint hands and it sends a flare of something through his body which dislodges his timid smile a little. 

Leaning back into Harry's broad chest, the blonde girl begins questioning her boyfriend as to what a “bacon sarnie” is and when Louis sees Harry lean down to whisper in her ear, a pang of disappointment pings at Louis' chest because Harry is taken. Harry is taken and off bounds. Which means no flirting. Absolutely no flirting.

Ten minutes later, and Taylor is outside taking a phone call and Louis is preparing their order whilst trying to discretely watch Harry who in turn is watching him. Today Harry is wearing a white tshirt under a green parka which shouldn't be considered fashionable but he just makes it work and it's unfair, Louis thinks, because Harry could literally be wearing a bin liner and still look ridiculously good. 

As Louis is pouring tea into take away cups with a somewhat steady hand, Harry breaks the comfortable silence.

“ _With the stroke of the loss I was so proud of he uttered the cry of a creature hurled over an abyss, and the grasp with which I recovered him might have been that of catching him in his fall_ ,” and Louis has to physically restrain himself from the coy comeback that's sitting on the tip of his tongue because out of all the lines in that damn book, Harry had to pick that one.

“Didn't know you'd be into gothic horror novels,” comes Harry's voice again, and when Louis turns around with his completed order, Harry's flicking through his copy of his coursework text.

“What did you think i'd be into?” says Louis in a way that he hopes comes across is curious and not flirty. Definitely not flirty.

“Pegged you for more of a romance guy.” comes the reply and there is almost unquestionably a glint in Harry's too green eyes that suggests that he caught scent of Louis' flirty tone and is reflecting it right back at him.

“Well if it's any consolation to you, I didn't willingly pick it. For my uni course and all,” Louis says as casual as possible whilst successfully taking the money Harry is offering him for the food and drink. 

Harry smirks, and Louis is certain his knees begin to quiver a little at that, before waving the biro pen that Louis was using for his essay between his slender fingers.“I figured,” he grins because Louis has a knack for stealing the free pens that his uni gives away at open days, hoarding them away to build up his own supply of to use because he is a poor uni student after all. The huge and glaringly obvious 'London Metropolitan University' logo is a bit of a give away.

“So Louis-from-the-coffee-shop, what course are you doing?” dropping the pen, Harry flips his head down and runs his hands through his forest of hair messily, and oh what Louis would do to twirl a curl around his finger.

“Well Harry-from-One-Direction, i'm in my final year of English Literature with Creative Writing.” Louis recites with an ease that comes from numerous amounts of people asking him about his course. He's used to this small talk with customers who are waiting for their order. Only, Harry's order is safely tucked away under his arm and there's no reason for him to still be there talking to Louis. Not that Louis' going to complain.

“Ah you're one of those English types. All about Jane Austin and Charlotte Brontë, right?” Harry's now leaning slightly against the counter and Louis gets the distinct impression that he isn't going to leave any time soon.

“Hmmmm, I suppose, but i'm more partial to the works of William Blake and Shakespeare,” replies Louis, playing along with this handsome boy who he's most certainly not falling head over heels for.

“Ah! To be or not to be, that is a-” Harry's overzealous repetition of the world famous lines is interrupted by the buzzing of his phone. Digging around in the tight pocket of his jeans, his face seems to fall slightly as he reads whatever notification flashes up on the screen.

“-question.” He finishes off, looking up at Louis and pocketing his phone again.

“Something like that,” the barista mumbles not wanting to correct the popstar.

“I'd love to continue this discussion but Tay's being mauled alive by the paps out there,” Harry explains as he turns to leave and Louis doesn't want him to go. Doesn't want him to leave him all alone. He wants to carry on talking about authors and educate Harry's limited knowledge of Shakespeare. Realising how ahead of himself he's getting, Louis forces a smile and nods in understanding. 

Harry's hand pauses on the handle of the door and he turns around once more.

“It was nice seeing you again, thanks for the food Louis,” he says softly, lips pulling up slightly at the corners.

“Don't mention it, and yeah, nice seeing you too. Sorry about, er, last time.”

“It's cool. At least today i'm not leaving here wet!” and with a wink and a flurry of action, Harry's gone.

If Louis wasn't sure if Harry was coming onto him before, he's positive now because there's no way that Harry's last sentence was anything but a double entendre. 

 

∞∞∞

 

Louis is convinced that some twisted form of fate has struck him because he sees Harry again only a few days after their successful second encounter.

This time it's out of the comforting walls of the coffee shop and Louis is running late for his lecture. Nothing new there then. Oli decided that he didn't want to go to Primary School today and threw a strop in the middle of the pavement outside the school gates. Louis spent nearly twenty minutes trying to coax the boy into class and when he finally reached the bus stop to get to his uni campus, the bus was already pulling away.

Cursing, he adjusted the strap of his messenger bag and pulled his phone out to check the time.

 

_9:47_

 

His first lecture started at half nine. 

The books and papers in his bag suddenly felt a lot heavier and unnecessarily bulky on Louis' frail shoudler.

Just as he began to ponder whether there was any point in actually attending uni, the sound of excessive clicking and hollering reached him. Looking across the road, he saw a rabble of people encroaching upon a figure trying to walk down the street. Frowning, he leaned forwards trying to discretely watch the interaction.

The tangle of flailing arms waving cameras and pushy bodies obstructed Louis view of who the figure was and by some stroke of luck, a gap in the writhing mess of people revealed a slightly dishevelled looking Harry Styles. 

The boy was struggling to push his way through the throng of paparazzi and as if some magnetic force was compelling him, his head turned in the direction of Louis, eyes levelling his. Flustered, Louis quickly averted his gaze to the grimy concrete under his scuffed up converse and fiddled absently with the strap of his bag. Looking up meekly, because he was a curious bastard, he caught sight of Harry still watching him. The taller boy's hand reached up and motioned slowly in a discrete wave and if Louis looked really hard, he could see those perfectly formed pink lips mouth a silent call of his name in greeting that made Louis' heart palpitate in turn.

Some how Louis makes it to the last 40 minutes of his lecture, only to spend the time doodling in the margins of his notebook and texting Zayn who's in History of Art across campus. The girl next to him is smacking her gum loudly and it's grinding on Louis' nerves but he's not mean enough to do anything about it and there's a distinct smell of weed emanating from a boy two rows in front if him and all in all, it's just not a productive day for him.

When evening falls, Louis' picked Oli up from school and Zayn's brought back pizza for dinner and the three of them are sitting in the living room watching The Lion King. Louis doesn't hide how much he loves the Disney film and cries freely when Mufasa dies and then Zayn's there to call him out for being a wuss and everything is content. The month's rent is barely brushing Louis' mind, he's already written up two papers that aren't due in for another week and Oli's teacher explained today how Oli is progressing strongly in practising his letters. The state of equilibrium is creating a warm buzz to fill his bones because he's currently on top of everything and it feels _good._ It's all he needs to forget about the encounter at the bus stop.

“Daddy, why did Scar push Mufasa off the rocks?” Oli's voice is muffled slightly as he talks through a mouthful of pizza, the crust clenched in one of his chubby fists. Louis immediately presses two fingers to his son's lips. “Chew then speak baby.” He watches with amused eyes as Oli nods frantically and chews swiftly before repeating his question, this time without the mouthful of pizza, and looking up at his dad with wide, curious eyes. Louis sighs because it's not a question he knows how to answer without exposing his son to the harshness of life and bitterness of some people, and when he looks to Zayn for help the other boy is too engrossed in singing along to Hakuna Matata to aid Louis.

Oli squirms in his place on Louis' lap, plastic Toy Story plate resting on his little legs, pizza forgotten. Louis rearranges them so he has Oli's head resting against his chest whilst still having a clear shot of the TV before speaking. “Well, love, sometimes there aren't very nice people. Sometimes not everyone is nice to you. Sometimes there are mean people who want to hurt you.” Louis says tentatively, pausing to gauge the toddler's reaction. He can see Zayn from the other sofa, eyes on the TV with a can of Pepsi held in mid air and his body unnaturally still, showing that he's discretely listening in on father and son.

There's a minute frown marring Oli's round little face as he tries to comprehend what Louis' trying to tell him. Louis is expecting to hear a _why though, Daddy?_ but instead he gets “Has a mean person hurt you before?” and Louis replies slowly with a quiet “Yes” _you're mother_ is the unspoken part that Louis has to refrain from tacking onto the answer. 

Oli plucks his plate off his knees and pushes it onto the table in favour of clambering around in Louis lap, sharp little elbows knocking into Louis' ribs. Louis' hands reach out instantly to steady the boy and when Oli finally stops moving, he's sat with his back to the TV and face to face with Louis. One of his tender, small hands reaches up to cup against Louis' face, his palm only spanning across half of Louis cheek. It's such a powerful sign of affection and there is moisture pooling at the back of his eyes at the touch. Louis isn't sure what he did to deserve such a bundle of perfection and as cruel and selfish as it sounds, he's glad that Eleanor left them all those years ago because he's so grateful to have Oli all to himself. He wouldn't have it any other way.

“Daddy, will you stop the mean people from hurting me?” says Oli, hand beginning to stroke Louis' cheek gently.

“Of couse I will, baby,” Louis says fiercely, he'd never let anything in the world hurt his boy. “No one's going to hurt you whilst i'm here. Just remember that not everyone is mean though okay?”

Oli turns to face across the room before looking back at Louis. “Like Uncle Zayn?”

“Yes. Just like Uncle Zayn.” and there's a grin on Louis' lips as Zayn interrupts their conversation. “Me and your Daddy won't ever let the bad people hurt you, little man!”

Nodding in satisfaction, Oli speaks again. “Daddy, I won't let the mean people hurt you too”. Louis nods, unable to form words with the lump of emotion swelling in his throat and instead kisses Oli's palm. “Thank you,” he whispers when he trusts himself to speak.

Later, Oli is tucked up in bed and ready for Louis to read him to sleep, Zayn comes into say goodnight when Oli requests a word with Zayn in private. Louis raises an amused eye brow before stepping out the room and leaning against the wall outside, still within earshot. He can hear the mattress groan in protest as Zayn sits down.

“What's up, little man?”

“Uncle Zayn, can I ask you something?” their voices are hushed and Louis really has to strain his ears to catch the words passed between them.

“Sure, fire away.” comes Zayn's chipper tone.

“I'm not big enough to look after Daddy properly, so please can you make extra sure that no mean people hurt him?” says Oli in a ashamed voice. Louis' heart is aching with love for his little boy and he has to hold himself back from rushing back into the room to envelop Oli in a tight hug because he really loves him, so much.

“Of course I will. We'll all look after each other.” says Zayn, and Louis forgets how much his best friend cares and loves his son and he's so eternally thankful for both of them. Zayn was the one who helped Louis through all of Oli's tantrums and screaming fits. Zayn was the one who looked after the boy whenever Louis had to work. 

Zayn was the one who became Louis' emotional rock when Eleanor left him and their, no, his new born baby. Louis remembers being a broken hearted sixth form student with a brand new baby to care for and brand new responsibilities. He also remembers Zayn promising to help him in whatever way he could. Louis isn't too sure where he'd be without his best friend and he's not sure he wants to know.

“Thanks, Uncle Zayn.” Louis hears Oli yawn out. 

“No problem. See you in the morning, goodnight squirt,” and there's the sound of a kiss pressed to a cheek and footsteps leaving the room.

Zayn passes through the doorway and stops before his flatmate. There's a silent question of _are you alright_ and an implied reply of _yeah, thank you. For everything_ and Louis falls into Zayn. The taller lad's arms wrapping securely around Louis as he supports him. Zayn's murmuring comfortingly into Louis' hair and there's this bond between them that Louis' sure that nothing could ever break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thoughts? let me know!  
> tumblr - rainingnostalgia


	3. Revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's hard having to be with someone else when the right one comes along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So thank you to all the lovely people who left kudos and especially Jessie for the comment!  
> It's great to know people are interested so here's another chapter like i promised, hope you all enjoy it and please let me know what you think (:

The town is thriving, street lights softly illuminating the disorder on the streets that are drunk uni students, alcohol and testosterones pumping like electricity through their veins. The neon flashing of a club sign, taxis lined up in perfect rows along the road awaiting service, a couple having poorly concealed sex behind a telephone box and a group of girls in too high heels and too short skirts flash past the window. _Home_ Harry thinks. London at its finest.

Liam's got his headphones in and Niall is dosing on his shoulder, mouth agape. Harry's tempted to photograph the moment but he doesn't have the energy to reach for his phone so he continues his appraisal of the passing city.

Their private cab is driving too slow but the world is spinning by too fast and Harry's finding it harder and harder to focus; the colours of bright outfits revealing too much skin blending together obnoxiously causing weird psychedelic patterns that made his head swim. His eyelids droop and he has to pinch himself to fight past the haze that's lulling him into unconsciousness.

They're back from America after a short promotional trip and Harry's looking forward to nothing more than his warm inviting bed that no hotel room mattress could do justice. Niall had eaten too many jolly ranchers at the airport in America and pissed off Liam to no end on the plane as he flicked peanuts at the younger boy throughout the flight and continuously bounded about in his seat. The Irish boy's conked out from his sugar high and is tucked away in Liam's neck near a large stain on Liam's shirt where Niall had splatted him with food on the plane. There's a fond look in Liam's eyes as he watches the blond boy sleep, his paternal instincts shining through and Harry is so thankful to have Liam as a bestfriend.

He remembers three months ago when management shat on his day, dropping a mother of all bombshells on his head.

He'd pretended to date Caroline, kissed Emma in Australia and now they wanted him to go out with Taylor Swift. Taylor Swift as in multi-million-album-selling-A-list-star Taylor Swift. Taylor Swift who would catapult him back in to the tabloids and support his “womaniser” image that management said would draw attention to the group.

He'd protested at first, slammed his fists on the hardwood table and knocked over his chair, but it was patently futile because what management say, goes. Management aren't to be trifled with. He'd unwillingly met with Taylor only to discover that it was hard to dislike her and that she was a polite little thing who seemed smitten with him and Harry, forever the gentleman, couldn't find it in his heart to refuse her offer of a “quiet dinner after her show” which soon turned into meeting her family and introducing her to his and what the media branded as “the world's new power couple”.

And Liam was there after every time Harry had to be publicly seen with her. Was there to offer a warm, familiar embrace and kind words of reassurance that soon management would get bored and cut if off. On days when Harry found it impossible to get out of bed and face the world, Liam would encourage and motivate him with the promise of freedom after the contract was over.

Niall would comfort him too. Only with food offerings and Nandos giftcards.

The red numbers of the clock in the taxi blinked 1:11 as the cab began to slow, pulling into a familiar private driveway.

After dragging a limp Niall and half a dozen suitcases out of the car they watched silently as the vehicle backed out onto the road.

Harry stared at Liam. Liam stared back at him.

“Li, are you planning on spending the night out here or do you feel like opening the door soon?” yawned Harry leaning heavily against his suitcase. His knitted jumper wasn't equipped to deal with the harsh British weather and his teeth were chattering.

“Er, mate. I haven't got the key.” Liam's struggling to balance the dead weight that is Niall against his shoulder, shifting nervously as the prospect of being locked out of their own home begins to become more and more viable with each passing second.

“Well I haven't got it” Harry's words come out harsher than he intended but he doesn't have time to worry about it because it's starting to rain and fuck, they're locked out. Liam's face looks pale under the moonlight and Harry's thoughts oscillate from being angry at Liam for letting this happen and feeling sorry for himself.

“Well we might have given it to-”

“No” Harry cuts sharply because they both know that Niall is not to be trusted with something so significant and letting Niall keep the house key is something laughable.

After checking their pockets and baggage, Liam's deposited Niall on their porch and is calling hotels and close friends of theirs in the area.

Harry's got his hands tucked under his armpits to reserve heat when a flash of a shutter resonates from the corner of his eye and all he can think about is how shit his life feels at the moment, like a continual session of being put on display for strangers to gawk at and criticise with no respite.

 

It's nearing 2am when Harry steps foot into the coffee shop. He's surprised it's still open but who's he to complain.

His jumper is damp and his boots are squelching on the lino floor, beanie hanging limply from his trembling fingers.

There's a person stood behind the counter facing away from him, stature unnaturally still. As he begins to step forward the figure spins quickly, bread knife in hand.

Harry freezes.

The first thing Harry notices is that it's Louis. Louis with his wispy fringe and twinkling cerulean eyes. His face is tense and drawn as if expecting the worse. The next thing Harry sees is the way Louis' posture relaxes and the way his chest heaves from the breath he'd been holding. At his exhalation, the room almost seems to brighten as though Louis just breathed an air of calm that chased away the terse atmosphere of the shop.

“Oh, it's you.” Louis' hastily putting away the knife and pulling up a pad and pen.

“The one and only,” Harry jokes hoping his weariness doesn't show as obviously as how he feels.

“Sorry about, urm, that,” and as Louis steps into better lighting, Harry can see the dark shadows under his eyes and the almost sickly pallor of his skin. Meeting him at the counter, Harry hops onto a bar stool and leans his elbows against the cool marble, pools of perspiration gathering where the droplets of rain seep from his jumper. “It's cool. Do you usually wield knives at people or just me?” and Harry's eyes are suddenly bright, tiredness gone as he sits in the presence of a boy he barely knows but feels bewilderingly content by.

“Oh only the cute pop stars” says Louis with a worn grin but a grin nonetheless. Blushing, Harry ducks his head.

“Nah, sometimes the students stumble in here and get a bit rowdy.”

“Oh. Really? And does that happen often?” Harry's words are laced with concern that he hadn't quite managed to hide because Louis is tiny and fragile and he doesn't want to think about him having to deal with pissed-off-their-face uni students that are probably more than strong enough to over power him.

“Hmm sometimes. But it's okay, usually a sharp knife and a threat to call the police are enough to get rid of them” Louis' tone is nonchalant and it bothers Harry how casually he's speaking because no it's not okay that Louis has to put up with drunken liabilities. The word “usually” has a knot forming in Harry's throat and a sense of irrational, or rational depending on how you look at it, fear creeping up his spine. Unable to form an eloquent reply he offers a weak “Drunken youths of today eh?”

Louis hums in response before questioning Harry's late night excursion. The curly haired boy considers whether Louis is one of those people who freak out when he talks about his celebrity schedule and debates on telling him the truth but when Louis stifles a yawn and those beautiful lines of mirth appear on the golden skin beside his eyes, Harry really can't resist Louis.

“We just got back from America last night. This morning. Whatever.” Harry laughs in exasperation as his mind fogs over slightly trying to figure out time zones and shit. “Then we managed to lock ourselves out our house so here I am.” He does his best jazz hands impression and Louis seemingly chokes on air and tries to stem the sniggers that fight their way past his lips. “Wow. And I thought I was bad!”

“Oi! S'not funny!”

“Oh but it really is,” and Harry is mesmerised by Louis' face as it lights up when he laughs, a beautific radiance emanating from his contagious smile that warms Harry's insides and has him smiling too.

“Yeah. So Liam's trying to find somewhere to stay tonight and Niall's passed out on the porch and here I am!”

“Abandoned your friends in their hour of need? Very chivalrous of you, Styles”

“I'm in need too! Had to get away from the delinquents, Liam gets violent when he's stressed.”

“Has anyone told you what a great friend you are?” Louis' twirling the pen around his nimble fingers and Harry has this increasing urge to reach out and intertwine their fingers.

“Har-har. You're fucking hilarious.”

“I know. I'm brilliant,” says Louis sleepily ignoring Harry's sarcasm laced comment.

“ _Yeah you are”_ Harry wants to say. Wants to feed the pit of desire curling in his stomach that's wrapping its fiery hold around his intestines and making his stomach turn. Louis does something to him, something strangely addictive that makes him forget all about his two bandmates struggling in the cold, and more importantly, causes him to turn his phone on silent when he knows he's expecting a call from his girlfriend.

45 minutes later when Harry gets a warning text from Liam, a concerned message from his mother and a text from the powers of above, which are his management team, demanding that he head to the temporary hotel they've booked for the night, he unwillingly leaves the warmth of his new found sanctuary but with a napkin tucked into his pocket imprinted with 11 fateful digits.

 

∞∞∞

 

The edges of his vision begin to blur, colours rippling together as he tries to take another step forward. Beads of perspiration dot his forehead from exertion and his breath is coming in short, shaking exhales.

It's not like Louis wanted to get sick, but when his baby boy caught the flu and was sitting teary eyed on the sofa last night, he couldn't help but cuddle the boy regardless of his illness. It was therefore inevitable that when Louis woke up this morning with a scratchy throat, runny nose and spiking fever that he'd contracted the virus.

Louis' mum had driven down and relieved him of Oli for the weekend and being privileged with a free Saturday, Louis had taken it upon himself to catch up on work he'd missed in the library. Oh the hardcore life of a uni student.

Only, the fact that he could barely stand, let alone make the 15 minute walk to the campus was hindering his plans slightly.

Stopping by a lamppost to lean against and catch his breath, Louis could hear the soft purr of a car engine rolling up on the road beside him. Grasping the strap of his bag tightly and hitching it up even higher than possible, he prepared to do a runner if any unfortunate circumstances should arise from the shifty character in the shifty car.

What he was not expecting was a head of familiar tousled curls to protrude from behind the window that was slowly being wound down.

"Hey, stranger. You look like you could use a lift"And that voice: fluid, languid words embedded in a deep tone hit him like a freight train.

Standing up even straighter and pushing his sweaty hair from his face, Louis didn't even need to fake a smile. Not when Harry Styles was just chilling in his car, casually having a conversation with him.

"Mum always taught me not to get into cars with creepy men" says Louis, grin widening further at Harry's mock offended features.

"I'm going to chose to overlook that remark."

"Well if it's any consolation, I think Mum's exact words were 'don't get into cars with creepy men no matter how handsome they are'"

Harry's dimples returned full force at the compliment and if Louis looked hard enough, he could've sworn that there was a faint dusting of a blush growing on the younger boy's cheeks. "That's better. My ego isn't quite as wounded."

"I think it's the curls. They're very seductive." Louis giggles playing along. What the hell, they had a midnight heart to heart the other day, he's allowed to flirt with the boy. Friendly flirting of course, he tells himself, Taylor slipping from his memory.

"Well what can I say? I'm a walking magnet aren't I" Harry teases back and leaning even further across the console in the middle of the front seats, the irony in his words taunting his tongue and niggling at the back of his mind.

Louis looks around at the unusually desolate street and raises an eyebrow at him.

"Shut up!" Harry whines childishly at being proved wrong.

Louis laughs in response and his velvety laughter reminds Harry faintly of wind chimes tinkling in the breeze. It's mesmerising to say the least and Harry can't help but feel a certain fondness for he boy.

It's not a foreign feeling. He felt it the first time he met Louis at that fateful day where he was doused in coffee. He recognised it when he was trying to evade the paparazzi and spotted the boy at the bus stop and it had immediately brightened his day. More recently when he'd thought he saw Louis on a crowded tube but when the figure turned round and the person's features didn't do Louis justice, he felt disappointment rain down on him. And that night when he'd turned up at the coffee shop, locked out of his own home, he'd drawn comfort from the way Louis' bubbly personality and bright smile had chased away the unease and weariness of travelling from his bones.

As addictive and refreshing Louis' company was, if Harry's instincts were right and things continued in this manner, the consequences for the band wouldn't be pretty.

"-should probably be heading to the library now. My work's not going to finish itself"

Tuning back into the conversation, Harry attempts to hide his disappointment. "Oh well, do you need a ride?"

"Oh no, no it's fine. Honestly, I could do with the exercise." Says Louis shaking his head frantically because Harry must have a hundred important popstar things to be doing instead of talking to him. But not even Harry with his soothing aura could relieve him of a bought of flu and it seems that shaking his head wasn't exactly his brightest idea as spots of black appeared clouding his sight and the sky seemed to merge seamlessly with the buildings surrounding him.

Latching on to the metal post, he squeezes his eyes shut trying to will the world to stop shifting.

"Louis? Louis what's wrong?" Somewhere though the hazy fog that seemed to wrap around his head he could hear the unmistakable concern in Harry's question and the abrupt stop of a car engine. "N'thing, m'fine" he mumbles before the grey of the concrete swirled up to meet his face.

 

Louis' not really a tidy person. His room is a bombsite of open textbooks balanced precariously on piles of clothing strewn across a floor of random items that he hasn't had time to find a permanent home for. Since Oli came into his life, the mess only became more haphazard, the tangled chargers and mass amount of shoes hiding amongst a sea of children's toys. It's not like he doesn't like tidying, it's just that between uni lectures, caring for his son and shifts at the coffee shop, he can never seem to find the time to clean his apartment.

When his eyes blink open, he's never been more grateful for the day off he was given the other week because his flat is now unusually pristine bearing no signs of plastic toys or dirty clothing.

He's laying on the sofa, an unfamiliar hoodie covering him and a pair of worried green eyes appraising him.

Louis blinks. His cloudy mind can't quite comprehend why he's back at his apartment or how Harry managed to get in.

“Harry?” he croaks out and immediately regrets it as his throat burns up and he erupts in to hacking coughs, wheezing in to his hands, dampness forming in his eyes as it feels as though someone's trying to pour hydrochloric acid down his throat.

There's a flurry of movement and a thud in front of the sofa and then Harry's on his knees before the older boy, cool glass of water in his hands.

“Easy. Here,” and there's gentle hands cupping the back of his neck drawing him into Harry's chest as Harry lifts the glass to Louis' chapped lips. He swallows gingerly, the water cooling his abused throat, and allows Harry to feed him the drink. He turns his head away when he's done and nests his head between Harry's collar bones.

“Harry. How did you get in?” the foul taste of illness saturates his words and his voice comes out cracked and rough.

“There were keys in your pocket.” Harry's chest trembles when he speaks and Louis draws comfort from it because raincheck, Harry Styles of One Direction is in his living room after bringing him home after he passed out.

“How do you even know where I live?” and Louis doesn't mean for it to sound so sharp but he doesn't have the energy to correct himself.

“You're one of those students that writes their address on their notebook and I may or may not have gone through your bag.” Louis remembers the “If lost, please return to....” sticker on his notepad and makes a mental note to remind Zayn that yes those stickers do come in handy.

“Excuses. You've been stalking me haven't you,” and despite his raspy words, there's a jesting tone colouring his words.

“Damnit. Busted.” Louis lays back onto the couch and looks up at Harry, eyes glassy and unfocused.

“It's okay, I understand, I mean who wouldn't want to stalk me?” His retort isn't as successful as he'd hoped because he dissolves into another coughing fit half way through and goddamnit, it's fucking painful.

“Shhh, Lou. Don't try and talk.”

When he's calmed down and leaning heavily onto the younger boy, he can feel the first stages of a fever creeping up on him as he sheds the hoodie and strips off his jumper, remaining only in his tshirt.

“No, you're going to get worse if you don't layer up. C'mon, put it back on.” says Harry, hoodie in hand and pleading eyes on display. Louis shakes his head in petulant disagreement, only for a wave of drowsiness to wash over him. He doesn't argue when Harry drapes his too big Jack Wills hoodie back over his body, just reaches out for the other boy and when his fingers curl around his wrist, he tugs him down to his level and tucks the other boy's hand under his chin like a teddy bear. Louis gets overly cuddly when he's ill and Zayn's usually the unwilling participant of his affection but since the Bradford boy isn't present, he'll make do with Harry.

“Er Louis? I'm kind of going to need my hand?” Louis' tempted to ask whether that's a statement or a question but settles on giving Harry his best Bambi-doe-eyed expression instead. It takes about two seconds for Harry to crack from the pressure and then he's motioning for Louis to move over before slotting his body next to the smaller boy's. The sofa isn't really big enough for them but then again Harry is kind of half crushing Louis. Louis doesn't seem to mind.

Louis moves his free hand up to Harry's throat where he presses his fingertips to his neck. At Harry's confounded expression, Louis slides his fingers up to Harry's lips. “You want me to sing for you?” he asks with a small smile, words mumbled against Louis' finger pads. Louis nods softly, eyes fluttering closed and leaning in closer to Harry. He drifts off with Harry singing about lego houses and being out of touch and love, his voice complimenting the song a million times better than Ed's.

Their nap is disrupted by a shatter of glass and obscenely loud gasp.

Louis jerks bolt upright, a million different thoughts and scenarios running through his mind, one of which being that armed robbers are currently stealing all his possession and another part of his mind screaming _“Oli, where's Oli?”_. When his vision focuses, the room comes into view where is Zayn standing across the room with a beyond aghast look written over his features and the shards of what appears to be a broken glass lying at his feet. Louis raises a hand in greeting before flopping back down, heart slowing back down. Only when his back hits the couch, he hears a groan and last time he checked, sofas didn't make sounds. And then Harry is all up in his space, arms tangled around his waist, breath hitting his neck with each out-take of air and Louis remembers. He sits back up again, too fast apparently as he gets a head rush, and finds Zayn froze in the same position, eyes wide and unbelieving.

“T-this is not what it looks like.” says Louis, stumbling over his words as they race to come out of his mouth.

Zayn fish mouthes for a moment before grinning slyly. “I'll leave you guys be and get out your hair but you promise you have to tell me everything, Tommo you sly dog,” and with a wink he's out the door. In his dazed phase, Louis struggles to collect his thoughts and with a huffed “fuck this shit” he retreats back into Harry's welcome embrace.

 

∞∞∞

 

It's been nearly twenty four hours and Louis' already feeling better. It might be due to the incessant teen popstar that's doting on his every beck and call or the endless amounts of chicken noodle soup he's been drinking, either way, things are starting to look up.

After Zayn left he'd received a text from said boy claiming that he was staying at a friend's and demanded to know all the “juicy deets” and if Louis' being totally honest, the juiciest thing that's happened between him and Harry is when Harry rubbed his back when he puked up into the toilet bowl. So juicy.

His mother had been more than willing to take care of Oli for another few days until he got better and after a brief chat to her, Louis had drifted back into unconsciousness. When Harry had woken up, he'd insisted on staying to look after Louis and his assertive tone wasn't something Louis wanted to disagree with. His heart hammered at the thought of Harry staying over and he'd made up some excuse to retreat to the bathroom where he proceeded to hide all of Oli's belongings. If there was any chance that Harry was actually seriously interested in being his friend, because only friends offer to stay and take care of each other, Louis didn't fancy scaring him off. Somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind he acknowledged that it was some sort of shit parenting but he pushed the thought away with his guilt.

It's Sunday and Harry's whipping up a cottage pie in the kitchen. Louis' got Top Gear playing idly in the background as he finishes writing a paper, glasses perched atop his nose. The sofa smells distinctly of vanilla, musk and something so uniquely Harry. Louis refused to let Harry into his room and offered to change Zayn's bed sheets for him but the younger had happily settled for sleeping on the sofa.

Louis really does feel like a shit dad for hiding his son's existence but he's had his fair share of experiences of when people have scarpered and abandoned his company after discovering Oli. Louis really doesn't want that to happen with Harry. It's not like he thinks Harry's that kind of person, but there's a small nagging and naïve idea toying in his mind that he and Harry might possibly have a shot together. It's stupid but he'd kept turning the thought in his overactive brain last night. Why would Harry go to so much effort to take care of a stranger? He'd seen Harry's phone vibrating on the counter, the screen reading “Taylor” and when Harry noticed, he waltzed over to turn his phone off. Maybe Louis' just desperate. Zayn being the only real company he's hand in a while and he misses the thrill of meeting someone new and discovering all their preferences and habits. He doesn't ever, ever regret having Oli, but sometimes the hole Eleanor carved into his chest when she left, gapes and is aching to be filled. The tendrils of his heart are frayed, tender and fragile and waiting to be stitched back together by the right person.

After they've eaten, plates stacked in a pile on the coffee table, Louis' curled up around Harry. One thing that Louis' learnt is that Harry is just as much of a cuddler as he is. There's a comfortable stillness enveloped around them and it's not quite as awkward as Louis imagined. Well, things don't really get more awkward than spewing up the contents of your stomach in front of a world famous boy band member, but whatever.

Twin iPhones lay beside them, one a shiny and pristine model of the latest iPhone whilst the other was cracked and looked like it had seen better days. It's a pretty accurate representation of them Louis thinks. The silence is broken by the vibrations of Harry's phone. They both glance down at it and it reads “Taylor” much like the many other times Harry's phone rang, and just like those previous times Harry reaches down to turn it off.

Louis frowns because Harry looks so dejected and disheartened and all he wants to do is kiss the frown off his face.

“Trouble in paradise?” he says gently. He's fiddling with his fingers in his lap, teeth gnawing on his bottom lip because they've never spoken about Taylor before and it's always been a no-go zone.

Harry hums in agreement and for the first time there seems to be a hint of annoyance in his attitude towards the elder. Louis isn't deterred and presses on because he's still partially ill and it's affecting his ability to think straight. Or that's what he tells himself.

“What's wrong? Is everything alright?”

“Don't wanna talk 'bout it”

“You sure?” and Louis knows he's really trying Harry's patience now but it still doesn't stop him.

“For fuck's sake just drop it,” barks Harry, eyes straight ahead and forcibly avoiding Louis' gaze. His shoulders are tense and his jaw is set. Louis succeeded in provoking a reaction from the curly haired boy and he instantly regrets it.

“Oh. I'm. Urm sorry, yeah,” he stammers quietly, almost too quiet. He stares at his lap because why oh why did he think it was a good idea to press Harry's metaphorical buttons? There's a prolonged moment of muteness before Harry's back hunches over defeatedly and he sighs, “ 'm sorry Lou. I. Just. It's complicated.”

It's cliché as fuck and if Louis had a pound for every time he'd heard that saying in his life he'd be rich. Instead of rolling his eyes he just nods in understanding. “Course. Sorry, didn't mean to overstep my, erm, place.”

Harry's shaking his head with a snort, irritation dissipated, “You didn't overstep anything. I'm not bloody royalty, mate. You're not beneath me or something.”

“Actually I kinda am. You know, you're like a world-wide mega superstar and i'm like a broke uni student, remember?” and the harsh reality of their situation is sinking deep into Louis' bones, instilling a dull pain into his body. He looks up at the taller boy through his fringe, eyes wide, round and pathos inducing.

“God, you can't look at people like that Lou! It's not fair”

Louis tilts his head to the side in mock confusion.

“Nooooo, stop. You know I can't take it!”

Louis blinks owlishly.

Harry huffs out a breath petulantly before curling his arm around Louis again and nuzzling into his side.

“Taylor's pissed at me cause i've spent my only free weekend with you.”

Louis' mouth gapes as his mind turns. Harry spent the only weekend free from his hectic lifestyle, with him. And not with Taylor. It's not actually that hard to grasp but Louis' stumbling repeatedly over the thought because if he were in Harry's situation, he'd definitely be spending time with Taylor instead of him. Who wouldn't?

“I'm not like completely incompetent y'know,” Louis mumbles. “I can, like, take care of myself. You don't have to be here. I'm not forcing you to stay. Honestly, you can go if you want, I won't be offended if you leave,” and it stings to say the words because all he can think is _staystaystay_ and _pleasedontleave_.

“No Louis, I know you're not making me stay. Believe me, I wouldn't stay if I didn't want to. It's just nice to get away from all the craziness sometimes and you're so grounded and refreshing and, and nice.”

“You mean 'grounded' and 'refreshing' as in boring and normal don't you.” there's salty moisture pooling at the corners of his eyes and Louis blinks rapidly to dispel it.

“No, Louis I didn't mean that at all. Of course you're not -” Harry jerks up and nearly headbutts Louis in his need to meet the older boy's gaze.

“I'm sorry i'm not exciting enough for you. Go to Taylor, i'm sorry I kept you two apart. Seriously, just go. You have a beautiful girl waiting for you and i'm just me.” and then fresh tears are falling and Louis wants to kick himself because his emotions are shot to shit right now and he can't control a damn thing.

“Oh my god, love, no don't cry.” and Louis wants to sink down into the fabric of the sofa but there's strong arms wrapping around him and pulling him into a toned chest, the smell of expensive cologne filling his senses.

Louis just clings on to Harry and sobs even harder.

“No...please...don't” his words come out distorted around his cries and he pushes against Harry, manages to evade the other boy and scoots away from him only for Harry to follow him and latch back onto him like a monkey.

“Please, don't push me away Louis. I want to be here.”

There's a moment where Louis stops shaking long enough to digest Harry's words and then Harry's leaning forwards into Louis' space and pressing his lips hesitantly against Louis'.


	4. Escapist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's hard having to be with someone else when the right one comes along

Harry: this interview is dragging onnnnnnnn :(  
10:03am

Louis: poor you, must be so hard to answer a few questions infront of a camera ;)  
10:03am

Harry: I dont appreciate your sarcasm.  
10:04am

Harry: i'd like to see you try it.  
10:11am 

Harry: louehhhhhhhhhh dont ignore meeeeee :((((((  
10:13am

Louis: my god you're like a needy overgrown child.  
10:14am

Harry: you love it though :')  
10:14

Louis: how are you even texting me right now?  
10:15

Harry: make up break.  
10:15

Louis: yh as if you need make up.  
10:17

Harry: i'm flattered. Really.  
10:18

“Mr Tomlinson, if you're coping so well in my class that you feel able to text, please explain to me Freud's theory of projection and transference as utilised in the novella we are currently studying.”

The steel like tone of his professor calling him out makes Louis bolt into a straighter sitting position, head snapping up. His fingers deftly save his draft message to Harry and he slips his phone into his jumper sleeve.

When one has to bring up a child, one gets increasingly good at multi-tasking and luckily for Louis, texting whilst listening to his lecturer is a walk in the park.

Fixing a smug look on his face, he parrots his professor's exact words back to him before allowing himself to slump back down in his seat.

Louis: you dick, you just got me caught texting in lecture.  
10:25

 

∞∞∞

 

When Louis returns from his walk with Oli, there's artist biographies and sheets interpreting their work spread across every flat surface in the kitchen surrounding Zayn. He's got his head bowed in his notepad, eyebrows pinched together and a pen gripped too tightly in his hand as it dances across the paper. 

Louis stops dead in his tracks. “Zayn, did you rob a book store or did one explode in our kitchen?” Oli takes off his baby converse and leaves them by the door before padding over to Zayn and pulling on the bottom of his jumper.

“Haha you're so funny Louis. If I wasn't so stressed and my deadline wasn't tomorrow, i'd lob a book at you and see what funny remarks you'd make then” Louis isn't put off by Zayn's hostility, knows it due to his ridiculous work load, and watches the interaction between Oli and Zayn.

“Uncle Zayn, can I see please?” Oli's looking up at Zayn and Louis doesn't have to see his son's face to know that he's pulling his best doe-eyed-innocent expression and he feels a swell of pride because it's the exact same look that Louis perfected many years ago.

Zayn smiles at the toddler before lifting him onto his lap. And that right there is exactly why Louis loves Zayn so much. No matter whatever shit the younger boy is going through, he always, always manages to make Oli happy. It's a given. Zayn treats Oli like a prince and sometimes Louis' convinced his best friend loves his son more than himself

Zayn lends Oli a pencil and tries to teach the little boy how to draw a dragon whilst Louis potters around putting the kettle on. Everything feels so domesticated and it's comforting to Louis. 

Back when Oli was a baby, he'd had some admittedly embarrassing financial difficulties. When he went flat hunting for accommodation in his second year of uni, Zayn had turned up to view the flats with him and insisted on being his room mate and now Zayn's the one who pays for their rent with Louis chipping in now and again whenever he has money to spare. It's caused arguments between the best friends in the past but the fact of the matter is that Zayn's parents are filthy rich, as in borderline millionaires, after having set up a stockbroker company and Mr and Mrs Malik love Louis like their own son which shut down any qualms Louis had about living off of his best mate's parents. Zayn's parents had fawned excessively over Oli when they'd first made acquaintances but Louis had to put his foot down at the £200 a month they tried to send him when Oli was still very young. He'd politely refused any other means of help they offered because there was helping out a friend in need and then there was being charity case poor. Louis likes to think he's not quite sunk to the level of the latter.

Louis prepares slices of apple and banana in Oli's favourite Bob The Builder bowl for the 4 year old and turns the kitchen radio on. There's a moment of static before Vampire Weekend spills through the speakers and the trio share a comfortable silence.

“Daddy?” Louis looks up from where he's sat opposite Oli, laptop open in front of him where he's browsing different duffel coats for his boy because winter's fast approaching and the sleeves of Oli's old coat is reaching somewhere closer to his elbow than his wrist. It's safe to say that Oli's growing a lot recently and it only serves to remind Louis of how his son is growing up so fast. “Yes Ol?”

“What does 'twat' mean?” Oli's tiny forehead is wrinkled in confusion, blue orbs wide and innocent and Louis never, ever wants to hear him say that word again. Zayn looks up from his work as well, concern in his eyes as he looks at Louis to explain. “Love, it's not a nice word. In fact it's a word that only very bad people use and I don't want you repeating it. Okay?” Oli nods vehemently “Of course daddy, I didn't know, sorry. I won't say it ever again.” But Louis' not satisfied.

“Oli, where did you hear that word?” And if it's one of Oli's school teachers, Louis will have no problem calling up the school and ranting to the headmaster about their staff. Only it's worse. “One of the – the other boys in class called me it.” The little boy's head is down cast in shame and on the other side of the table Zayn snaps his pencil, wood splinters shattering along with Louis' heart. “What? Who called you it?”

Silence.

“Oli?”

Zayn reaches over to hold Oli's slight hand and draw his attention. “It's okay, squirt. You can tell us.”

“I can't 'member” mumbles Oli reluctantly.

Louis shares a look with Zayn.

“Baby, do they call you that often?”

Oli bites his lip, the gap from where his two front baby teeth have fallen out is visible and it makes Louis' heart clench that some boy had the nerve to call his baby a twat. He doesn't like to think the word because it's not helping him control his temper in the slightest.

“C'mon Ol, we're not mad at you.” Louis tries again.

“Well-well they haven't called me that before. B-but they call me other names. Sometimes.” Oli's small fingers are drawing patterns on Zayn's hand as he speaks, eyes still avoiding their gaze.

The word _bullying_ is ringing in Louis' ears and he hates himself for not knowing it was going on. Hates Oli's school teachers for not sorting it out and he fucking resents the scum who dared pick on his boy. 

“Do you know why they call you names?” Louis doesn't want to ask what other names they call him, doesn't want to know, doesn't think he could stomach the information.

Oli shakes his head but Louis knows his son better than that.

“Oli, I think you do. Please, bud?”

The toddler looks up at Louis with hurt evident in his glassy eyes, face red from embarrassment. “Because I don't have a mummy like the other boys do.”

Louis inhales sharply, lungs constricting as his heart clenches in a vice like grip. Zayn's hand noticeably tenses and Oli hangs his head.

Nothing can describe the feeling of your baby boy telling you that he's being bullied for having a single parent, Louis thinks. The fact that it's partially his fault is clawing up his insides and instilling anger in his bones that's overriding the initial shock. He opens his mouth to speak but Zayn beats him to it.

“Oli, listen to us. You need to know that those boys who are telling you that, are wrong. They're bad people and you are not to listen to them. You hear?”

Oli nods but he's still pointedly ignoring any eye contact. It's Louis' turn. “Zayn's right. They've just got nothing better to do. Oli look at me.” The authority in his voice succeeds in lifting Oli's face to meet his. “You have a mummy. She just had to leave us. And there's nothing wrong with only having a daddy” Louis finishes fiercely. 

“Okay?” and Louis' asking not only to make sure Oli comprehends him, but also to seek some reassurance because there _isn't_ anything wrong with being a single parent, right?

“Okay daddy” Oli says in a small voice, lips curving upwards in a hint of a smile.

“Daddy and Uncle Zayn are all you need, alright buddy?” says Zayn, ruffling Oli's unruly hair.

“And love, if they _ever_ call you names or are mean to you again, you have to tell someone, okay? Tell one of your teachers or preferably me or Zayn. Promise?”

“Promise”

“Good. Come here,” says Louis opening his arms invitingly. It's a flurry of movement as Oli hops down off his chair, races around the table and skids a bit in his socks and catapults himself into Louis, chubby little arms wrapping around Louis' waist and squeezing tightly. Louis strokes down his back in languid, flowing motions.

“Love you lots, baby”

“Love you too, daddy”

 

∞∞∞

 

There's a pile of Louis' clothes draped over the back of the sofa, different fabrics and colours neatly piled up next to Zayn who's attempting to watch Eastenders, only Louis' blocking the TV with a red shirt held up against his chest.

 “Too plain?”

 “Too bright.”

 Louis tosses the shirt onto the other chair and picks up two tshirts; one a white v neck and the other a grey hollister tshirt.

 “Which one?”

 “Well the white makes your collar bones look good enough to lick but the grey one goes well with your jeans.” Louis frowns and glances at both shirts in quick succession. He throws down the grey top and rummages through the clothes on the back of the sofa and extracts three pairs of jeans.

 “Standard blue, black or stonewash blue?”

 “Standard blue, keep it safe.” Louis nods and hurries in stripping off his current joggers and pulling on the blue Topman skinny jeans but pauses with one leg in.

 “Wait, d'you think it'll look too, I don't know, casual?”

 “For the love of all that's holy, Lou, get your arse in those jeans and then haul it out of my way so I can watch Sharon and Lola fuck up each other's lives so I can feel moderately better about mine.” Zayn suddenly snaps half heartedly, giving Louis his best sad eyes. Louis blinks at him before shuffling to the side slightly and obediently changing in silence.

 When Louis' dressed he situates himself between Zayn and the TV and twirls before giving the younger boy an expecting look, nervousness shining in his eyes because he's not seen Harry in days and he's fucking _nervous._

 “Looking good, Tommo. Not quite sure why you've dolled up so much, s'not like you're going on a date or nowt,” and Zayn's words are purely jesting but they're also unintentionally accurate and Louis' blushing all the way up to his roots and he can't quite meet Zayn's eye. His whole body language is screaming _lol actually I am going on a date with Harry fucking Styles._

“Shut the back door.” Zayn deadpans.

“Sassy.”

“Louis fucking Tomlinson, don't get smart with me. Tell me, your best friend of forever, that you aren't actually going on a date with Harry from One Direction.”

“Urm, i'm not going on a date with Harry from One Direction?” and Louis' looking anywhere but Zayn, voice lacking all confidence.

“Conviction, say it with conviction!”

“Sorry, mate, don't think I can.”

Zayn pointedly turns the TV on mute before giving Louis is full undivided attention. “Explain.”

“Well, y'know we were texting and he wanted to meet up so we're meeting up.”

“Wait, but you're not actually going on a date. Like a proper date?”

“He didn't exactly say that it was a date but we're also going for dinner. And we've kissed.” 

Zayn promptly chokes on air, eyes bulging obscenely from his head and Louis' worried he might be having a fit.

“You _kissed_? You actually kissed? When? What-what-why, why didn't you tell me?!” and Zayn lands an effeminate slap to Louis inner thigh and looks up at him from his place on the sofa looking scandalised,

“It's not really a big deal, mate, just kinda -” says Louis stumbling over his words because analysing his predicament in his head is very different from actually explaining it out loud.

“NOT A BIG DEAL? You fucking kissed one of One Direction, the biggest fucking boy band of the 21st century? Not a big fucking deal?! You've got to be kidding me, Tomlinson.” and Zayn's transitioned from shocked disbelief to hurt in about 0.2 seconds flat.

“Well the thing is, he's kinda going out with -”

“TAYLOR SWIFT ohmygod you fucking what.” says Zayn, tongue tripping over his words in his eagerness to get them out.

“Zee, I don't know!” and Louis' throwing his hands in the air in resignation because hedoesn't quite know what's going on between him and Harry, he's just rolling with the punches. Zayn pats the space on the sofa next to him with a bit too much force. “Let's start at the very beginning.”

“It's a very good place to start” trills Louis trying to deviate the conversation as he sits down next to his best friend.

“The dog will bite and the bee will bloody sting if you don't stop changing the subject so spill.” Louis almost wants to tell Zayn that that's the wrong song but he resists in fear that the other boy might legitimately hit him.

“Well-”

“Start from that weekend when you got ill,” interjects Zayn, elbowing Louis to get a move on with his story. 

“Urm raise your hand if you're telling the story....” Louis says as he gives Zayn a pointed look whilst raising his hand and pretending to see it. “Oh would you look at that, yeah I'm telling this story so stop interrupting and let me get on with it.” Zayn rolls his eyes.

“Funnily enough, it did actually start that weekend I got ill,” says Louis coughing sheepishly and ignoring Zayn's glare. “He was being all nice and friendly and he kept ignoring Taylor's calls so I thought they'd had like a tiff or something, yeah? Anyway, I called him out on it and he said it was complicated and then we kissed.” Louis shrugs.

Zayn looks like he's having a hard time digesting it and Louis doesn't blame him. “Wait, Lou. You're gonna have to backtrack. You guys kissed.....because things with Taylor and him were complicated?” he reiterates slowly, head nodding in sync with his words 

“Well, he got a bit defensive and I kinda, ended up, like crying.” and Louis' internally cringing as the words ring awkwardly in his ears. Zayn looks furious, “The little shit made you cry?” there's a comforting warmth as Louis sees how protective Zayn is over him. 

“No, no, I pushed him into talking about it and ended up biting off more than I could chew.”

“Is there a sexual innuendo in there that I should be worried about?”

“What – what d'you think I am? No! He just kissed me cause I was crying.” and Louis really hates saying the words out loud.

“Was there tongue?” and Zayn sounds far too interested in Louis' love life.

“No!”

“Indecent groping?” 

Louis aims a violent flick at Zayn's head.

“Alright, alright, i'm just messing. But seriously. So he kissed you?” Louis nods. “But he's still going out with Taylor?” Louis nods again. “So what does that make you?”

“We've not really, like, discussed it per say but -”

“Louis, if he's stringing you along, I swear to god. I will deck him so hard my fist will be imprinted on his face for the rest of his miserable life.” It's a scary threat but it's also highly implausible because Harry's forearm is probably bigger than Zayn's bicep and Louis can't help but snigger at the thought of Zayn trying to land one on Harry. Zayn shoots him a dirty look as if to say _I totally could._

“I'm sort of just going with it, I mean it's not everyday a popstar kisses you and asks you out for dinner. I'm just gonna see where it takes us. He didn't even really seem like he wanted to be with Taylor, he might even end it with her?”

Zayn sighs and Louis automatically knows it's a bad sign. “Lou, just be careful. Don't-don't....and i'm not saying this to be a dick, but don't expect too much. I don't want to be picking up the pieces when he's screwed you over because you deserve more than that, alright. Just...be wary.” The younger boy's arm somehow ended up around Louis' shoulders during his speech and Louis' drawing comfort from it because he knows what Zayn means and he knows it's probably best not to get involved and he _knows_ that Harry's a risk, but there's just something about him that has Louis tripping over right and reason, all rational thought tumbling out the window. 

“Have you told him about Oli?”

Louis mumbles a no into Zayn's shoulder. “Reckon he'd probably leg it. And you know how Oli would feel if he met Harry and then Harry left. Don't wanna do that to him.”

He feels Zayn nodding, “You're a good dad. Proud of you,” whispered into his ear.

 

∞∞∞

 

Harry ends up taking Louis to a sheltered little Italian restaurant, tucked away in a suburban area of London that Louis' never ventured to before. It's quaint and mellow, the only light coming from the tea candles set up in the middle of the table and there's some country, acoustic music playing in the background which is definitely not reminding Louis of a certain country singer. Harry's car is parked around the back and Louis' attempting not to fangirl over the fact that he's been in _Harry Styles' car_. 

There's a tabby cat preening on the counter by the entrance and even though Louis' questioning the hygiene of the restaurant, his mind is too preoccupied by Harry's foot brushing repeatedly against his bare ankle where his jeans have been rolled up.

“You look good, by the way.” says Harry whilst absent-mindedly rearranging the candles on the table and peeking across at Louis through his fringe. Louis is positive there's a blush painting his cheeks that the shadowy atmosphere can't quite conceal. “Thanks, you're not looking too bad yourself.” Harry ducks his head.

“So the boys keep asking about you. They wanna meet you.” and Louis' mind is spinning from the fact that One Direction want to meet _him._

“Well i'm definitely not opposed to that.” there's an eagerness in Louis' voice that he hopes isn't as obvious as he feels. But then Harry's smiling at him, all dimpling cheeks and rows of pearly white teeth and pure fucking happiness radiating in his eyes and Louis can't look away.

They small talk their way through a shared starter of _Fritto Misto,_ recount recent events over _Penne Siciliana_ and by the time _Tiramisu_ has been layed on the table they've started on the embarrassing childhood stories and Louis hasn't stopped laughing.

When they leave, Harry helps Louis put on his jacket like a true gentlemen and Louis watches from afar as he pays for the bill and tries to ignore the fact that the bottle of white wine that they shared cost £40 alone but then he remembers that oh yeah, Harry's not exactly poor and he doesn't feel quite so bad. Besides, Harry nearly ate Louis out of his flat when he stayed over so he considers this compensation.

Outside, the sky's awash with inky blue hues from their spot above the bustling city of London and Louis can see the silhouetted outline of the skyscrapers towering over all. He wishes Oli could see this and that's when he remembers that he's supposed to tell Harry about his little boy. Zayn had suggested that Louis reveal Oli's existence to Harry and use his reaction to gauge Harry's reliability and annoyingly, it was a good idea, much to Zayn's smugness. It's just a lot easier to plan these things than to actually carry them out and Louis' paused in thought as Harry's waving a giant paw before his face.

“Earth to Louis. Earth to Louis?” comes his gravelly tone and when Louis snaps back to the present, Harry's grinning gently at him. Louis' knees turn slightly weak.

“Penny for you thoughts?” asks Harry, his hand brushing dangerously close to Louis' as he leads them down the brightly lit road. Louis scoffs slightly, “Babe, it's not the 1500s anymore.” because Harry is literally the personification of the word 'gentleman'.

“What?! Just trying to set the mood and I get it thrown back in my face. Might not bother anymore, dunno if you're worth it,” the taller of the two says in false derision, head turned petulantly away from Louis, nose upturned in the air but his fingers have curled slightly around Louis' wrist and Louis wonders if Harry can feel his pulse rocketing.

“Not too sure what your definition of setting the mood is, Harry,” Louis shoots back playing along and watching Harry's curls dancing in the wind. “Oi, i'm brilliant. You just don't appreciate true courtship behaviour.” says Harry, words drifting off into a whine. Louis' stomach is twisting into knots because if this is 'courtship behaviour' then he really needs to tell Harry about Oli before things go any further.

Leaves crunch under their feet as they carve a way across narrow streets and bicycle lanes to a desolate children's park. Harry guides them over to a bench tucked away between a cluster of sycamore trees and they sit, knees touching, bodies facing towards each other. Louis' hyper-aware of the fact that their hands are still joined.

“So. This has been really nice,” Louis starts filling the silence that settled around them. Harry smiles, lips chapped and pink, “Yeah it really has. Thank you. For spending your evening with me.” It's Louis' turn to duck his head.

Tentative fingers are lifting his chin and he's met with such pure emerald it takes his breath away. Harry takes advantage of his parted lips and swoops down to close the distance between them. It's gentle at first, hesitant and calculated; soft presses of lips on lips before transcending to needier, sloppier kisses and tongues seeking out tongues. Harry licks into Louis' mouth, chasing the warmth of his breath and tasting him properly. Louis has to draw back for oxygen and he opens his eyes to a wide eyed, satisfied looking Harry. 

The younger boy leans in again but Louis presses firm fingers against his puckered lips. “Harry.” he whispers, eyes fluttering shut trying to resist the urge to ravage the other boy's mouth. “No, no, no. Let's keep kissing,” Louis hears.

“We need to talk.”

Harry sighs. “Is this about me and Taylor?” Louis bites his lip in guilt and nods. He really doesn't want to have this conversation but it's got to be done.

“She's-we-we're not. I'm not seeing her. Not really.”

“Not really? It's kinda either a yes or no thing, Haz,” the nickname slides of Louis' tongue so naturally it's alarming.

“It's complicated. And I know I said that to you before, but it really is. We're not really going out. One day i'll explain everything to you, just not now. I just want to enjoy this, right now,” Harry clasps Louis' hands in his to emphasise the _now_ and his hands literally swallow Louis'. Louis' mesmerised by it. “Also know that I kinda really like you.”

“Well, I guess I kinda really like you too,” he replies, shuffling closer to Harry's side. It's warm and comforting as Louis draws up the courage to spill the truth to Harry.

Harry leans down to kiss him and he let's it happen, savours the sweet taste of wine lingering on Harry's tongue.

“Harry, I need to tell you something.”

Harry kisses him again.

“It's important.”

Harry pulls away.

“What's wrong?” and his fingers are stroking Louis' thigh rhythmically.

“I've been. I've been keeping something from you. Something important.” Louis curses his apparent block in variety of vocabulary and tries not to make everything sound melodramatic.

Harry's mind reels slightly as he considers this, different ideas racing through his head following along the lines of _he's a stripper, he's taken, he's moving away, he's a secret paparazzi, he's actually a she, he's dying oh my god he's dying isn't he._ Harry nods signalling for Louis to carry on.

“I was always going to tell you, but I needed to make sure you weren't just a one time thing that was going to up and leave. If you're serious about this – us,” Harry nods when Louis pauses, “then you need to know.”

It's probably best to just come straight out with it, Louis thinks. Like ripping off a plaster.

“I have a four year old son.”

Plaster ripped off.

Harry perceptibly freezes, eyes widening and fingers on his thigh stilling. 

Louis decides it's best to just keep going.

“His mum left when he was born. I haven't seen her since. I-do you – Harry?”

At the call of his name, Harry frowns and Louis' regretting this decision more and more.

“Are you alright?” The curly haired boy clears his throat but doesn't answer, Louis' feeling the warmth leaving him.

He still doesn't get a response, just a sharp exhale which can't mean anything good. “Harry, please say something.” Louis wants to cry because he's seen all the pictures of Harry with baby Lux and he _knows_ that Harry likes children, the majority of his fans are under the age of fucking 12 for fucks sake, and this is not how he envisioned Harry to react. 

“What do you want me to say, Louis?” Louis is taken aback by the harshness of his tone and edge to his words, can feel his lip trembling. “Why didn't you tell me before?” and Louis opens his mouth to explain but Harry's wrenching his hands from Louis' and standing up, moving away.

“Harry?” says Louis as he stands up too, stepping forward apprehensively but Harry just takes one step back.

“This was nice but i've-i've got to go,” he calls out backing away and he opens his mouth as if to say something else but his jaw clamps shut before the words form. There's no _let's do this again_ and it's absolutely tearing Louis apart because this was _not_ what was meant to happen, but he doesn't chase after the retreating figure, let's him go because he knows deep down that if Harry reacts like this to Oli, he's not someone he wants in Oli's life. It's happened too many times before in the past and Louis never thought Harry'd be one to follow in the footsteps of those before.

Harry's profile grows smaller and smaller as he walks briskly away, leaving Louis stranded in a foreign, unfamiliar part of the city. Leaving him to make his own way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry if there are any mistakes, please let me know if you spot anything amiss!   
> thanks and hope you like it :)


	5. Salutations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's hard having to be with someone else when the right one comes along.

There's two empty cartons of Ben & Jerry's Phish Food lined up along Louis' bedside table, a newly opened tub resting on his lap, spoon in hand. He's been wearing his joggers for three days straight and only changed his tshirt that morning because he spilt a spoonful of melted ice cream down himself. Things are looking bleak.

Oli's napping in Zayn's room when Louis finally sums up enough energy to depart from his lair of self pity and into their living area. Acrylic paint and the pungent chemical scent of masking fluid assaults his senses and he knows Zayn's been painting. The boy in question is in the kitchen, easel set up by the island with a palette of various colours balanced in one hand and a paintbrush in the other. As soon as Zayn notices his presence he's setting down his things and wiping skilled hands on his overalls. “Hey, Lou. How you feeling?” Louis flops into one of the barstools around the island, Zayn mirroring his actions. “Hmph.” It's not the most eloquent thing he's ever said, considering he's an English uni student, but if words could sum up his feelings it'd definitely be 'hmph'.

It's been a week since Harry abandoned him in the park and Louis had to call Zayn to come find him. A week since Zayn threatened to hunt down Harry and beat his ass. A week since Louis last heard from the other boy.

It's been a week of mourning and feeling sorry for himself and nothing productive being done. Louis woke up to take Oli to school, went home and moped around before picking Oli up again. It's probably not healthy how many lectures he's missed this week.

Zayn pushes a bowl of cereal in front of him. “Lou, I don't think all this moping is doing you any good. Oli's been asking about you.” The fact that he's been acting like the king of all pessimists for the past week has affected his son is not what he wants. And it's then that Louis' intervention strikes. No more drowning in his sorrows. Proactive and gung ho and all that bullshit, he thinks. It's all coming to him a bit late, and he's still stinging from Harry's rejection because he didn't expect Harry to leave. Expected him to be shocked and maybe hurt that Louis had kept it from him, but definitely not leave him. At the end of the day, Oli's all that matters and he'll be damned if he lets Harry spiral him into depression.

He's a fucking dad and his son needs him.

That's how Louis spends his Saturday afternoon; at the local Tesco with his son, pushing a trolley around the frozen section. Oli's clutching a bag of Malteasers defiantly from his seat in the trolley as Louis' debating whether to buy frozen peas or mixed frozen veg. He goes with the mixed veg because they're slightly cheaper even though Zayn's given him a generous amount of grocery money. Dropping the bag into the trolley he catches sight of the chocolatey sweets and gives Oli a disapproving look. 

“Oliver, do you want your teeth to fall out?” Oli grasps the bag tighter to his tiny chest.

“Oli?” the little boy shakes his head and allows Louis to pry the treat from him, watching with wide eyes as his dad places them on a random shelf. That's what the assistants are for, Louis thinks, not guilty at all for the misplacement of the chocolates.

They trundle their way through the freezers and end up in the cereal section. It's some miraculous coincidence that Zayn just happens to text Louis saying _plz cn u get me sum coco pops , luv u xo_ as they cruise past boxes upon boxes of cereal. Selecting the type Louis knows Zayn wants, he feels Oli pulling on his sleeve.

“Daddy, are you happy?” Oli looks up at him with big eyes expectantly. Louis loves his son so much it actually hurts. “I've been happier. Are you happy?” and the boy shrugs. “I'm only happy when you're happy.” 

Louis doesn't know what to say.

“Why've you been sad? Uncle Zayn says it's grown up stuff and that I won't understand. I don't like it when you're sad.”

“Baby,” Louis begins, smoothing Oli's hair down with one hand, “i'm not sad anymore. You make me happy.”

Oli's eyes light up. “So can we play when we get home?” Louis has to laugh because sometimes Oli is just so innocent and it's adorable. At his dad's nod, Oli wraps his arms around Louis in a hug, a muffled “Thanks, daddy, love you” sounding from Louis' coat where Oli's face is pressed.

Louis sneaks the bag of Malteasers back in to the trolley.

 

∞∞∞

 

The thing with 4 years olds, is that they're very subjective to emotional oscillation, Louis thinks. 

The bus journey back to their flat was calm and composed, well as calm and composed as one can be when laden with shopping bags and a child hyped up on sugar. So not really calm or composed at all.

They're back at the flat and Oli's throwing a temper tantrum.

“Oliver, please can you tidy your toys away once you've finished with them?” and Louis' breaking out the adult reprimanding voice but Oli just stomps his feet in protest. “But daddy, i'm going to play with them later!”

The floor of their living room really is a disgrace. Louis' got his textbooks covering the couch and the coffee table and there's a cesspit of toys growing in the middle of the room. 

“So you can put them away now and get them out later. Please just put your toys away,” says Louis attempting to keep his voice neutral. “No! You don't put your books away so why should I put my toys away?!” yells Oli back at him and Louis' scared at how similarly stubborn his child is to him.

“Because i've got to do my work now but I can't if I keep tripping over your toys just to get to the sofa! Please can you pick up your toys?” he tries again, gesturing wildly.

Oli's having none of it and instead picks up his plastic fire truck that Zayn bought him on his first day of school and lobs it across the room with all his might. Louis' eyes widen in alarm because Oli has never shown any signs of violence before, even when he's angry and Louis prays to God that it's not going to become a regular thing. “Oliver Tomlinson, you do not throw your toys around like that!” Louis hates how his voice shakes but he hates shouting at his baby boy even more.

“You're the worst dad ever and I _hate_ you!” screams Oli, tears running in rivulets down his tiny cheeks, hands balled into angry little fists.

Louis can feel his heart shattering in his chest, hears Zayn's chair in the kitchen scrape back as he walks in to the living room to do some damage control but Louis' had enough and with a sharp “Oliver, go sit in our room right now.” their bedroom door slams shut signalling the boy's defeat.

There's silence as Louis tries to catch his breath and numb the pain in his chest because he knows Oli didn't mean it and was just angry, but it hurts all the same. He sinks into Zayn's chest as his friend embraces him tightly, hands running comfortingly down his back. “oh Lou, it's bound to happen. Kids are like that aren't they? Calm down Lou.”

Louis' breath hitches in his throat and it's all to much and he just _can't._ He cries because his son hates him and he cries because he's behind on his half of the rent and he cries because it's the twins' birthday soon and he can't go and see them and he cries cause he's a shit brother and he cries because Harry fucking left him. It's all the pent up angst he's been carrying around on his shoulders finally taking its toll on him.

“It's going to be okay. Let it out, love. C'mon breathe Lou,” Zayn coaches him, “He didn't mean it, you know he didn't mean it.”

Zayn guides him into sitting down and makes him a cup of tea to calm him. Louis' tears have dried, eyes still red and puffy and he's half finished his drink when there's a knock at the door. He turns to Zayn with the most defeated look he can muster that clearly says _i-can-barely-stand-let-alone-open-the-door-please_ and Zayn just nods and moves to get the door.

The younger boy steps out into the hallway and closes the door behind him rambling, “If you're here for rent, I've got it for y-” but he stops short when he sees that it's not their landlord standing there. 

He has to blink a few times because Harry Styles is standing before him.

“Er, hey there.” says Harry awkwardly and his voice sounds exactly like it does from the videos Zayn's seen on youtube; all raspy and deep. Then Zayn remembers why Harry's probably here.

And he slaps him hard across the cheek.

Harry recoils, one hand hovering over the red, flaring skin on his face and bites his lip to repress a groan because holy shit that really _hurt_.

“If you're here to screw with Louis' head some more, then you can fuck right off.” the hostility in Zayn's voice leaves no room for argument. “No, god no, i'm here to explain...why....i-” starts Harry, standing up straighter and looking down at the shorter boy.

“I'm listening” 

Coughing to clear his throat, Harry extends a hesitant hand towards the older boy. “You must be Zayn, Louis' told me lots about you. I'm....Harry.” His voice trails off as Zayn doesn't reciprocate the gesture, just sends a venomous glare at his hand. This is probably not a great start, Harry thinks and he's pretty sure management is going to kill him for getting marked on his face.

“Please, just let me talk to Louis. I know I fucked up and I regret it so, so much. I just want to explain why I left him, and apologise because I am so sorry but I need to see him in able to do that. Please let me see him.” 

A look of deliberation scatters across the other boy's features and then Zayn's hand is hovering over the door handle, at which point Harry lets a spark of hope fill him because it's getting exponentially awkward being in the presence of Zayn as he berates him.

“If you screw this up, I will personally break your legs regardless of your celebrity status.” warns Zayn as he lets them into the flat, eliciting a nervous swallow from Harry because Zayn is one scary ass motherfucker.

The first thing Harry notices is Louis' pair of navy blue vans beside the hallway and a teenie tiny identical pair lined up next to them and holy shit, now Harry feels really bad, guilt rising up in his chest and fuelling his determination to make amends.

Zayn is striding forward, no regard as to whether Harry's actually following him or not and calling out to the seemingly empty flat, “Louis? Lou? You've got a visitor.”. Harry's too preoccupied with analysing the polaroid photographs blu-tacked haphazardly to the fridge he can see peeking out from the kitchen and just catches Zayn's “I'll be in my room” as Louis comes round the corner. Harry's head snaps round to look at him and he offers a weak smile as he watches the older boy school his features from one of abject shock into impassiveness. “Harry” he regards him cooly, and Harry is suddenly more than aware of the distance between them that seems to stretch on impossibly.

“Urm. Hey.” Later Harry will realise that was possibly the worst way to initiate a reconciliation speech but before he can compensate for his apparent lack of coherence, Louis is whirling past him and in the living room purposefully avoiding any physical contact and Harry wants to smack himself for fucking up this bad.

He follows Louis and stands behind the sofa awkwardly, watching Louis briskly fold away toys and shove them into boxes with sharp, disjointed movements. When he speaks he doesn't even bother to face Harry. “What do you want?”

“I wanted to talk to you, if that's alr-”

He's cut off almost immediately with, “I'm listening” but Louis' still rocketing around the room clearing away.

“I-i want to apologise, for that night that i-erm that I left you. Because I know it was a complete douchebag thing to do and I really, really do- Damnit Louis can you please just look at me?” Harry pleads exasperatedly because he's trying to fucking apologise and Louis is deliberately making this harder than it needs to be. “I really want to work this out and you at least owe me the decency of turning around.”

Louis freezes, through his white cotton shirt Harry can see the muscles in his slight frame tense, shoulder blades prominent under the near translucent fabric. He whirls around, fire blazing in his eyes and Harry's taken aback by the fury directed at him. “Harry, you left me alone in the middle of a park in some foreign part of London that I had no idea where I was. At night.” Harry really hates himself. 

“So no, I don't owe you shit.” 

Harry can be wrong.

He's never seen Louis' face twisted in spite before and it's not something he wants to see again. 

After some compromising and a bit more conflict, they end up on the sofa, Louis sitting as far away from Harry as he can.

“I was shocked. I really didn't expect you to drop that on me.” says Harry, hand running through his mane of hair and he thinks he can see Louis' shoulders slump slightly, defences slipping and so he goes on. “I don't know what I was expecting but it wasn't that. And I reacted in possibly the worst way and I regret it. I really do, like if I could go back to then and fix it, I totally would. But I can't.”

Louis still doesn't make any move to reply.

“Louis. I don't care that you have a son. In fact it makes me like you even more because it shows me how strong and brave and independent you are and that's so beautiful to me. The fact that you brought up a child on your own is incredible. I really, really hate myself for running away because I know _why_ you hid his existence from me, I get that. You were worried it would scare me off and I just upped it and left and it must have killed you and that's not what I wanted. I honestly didn't mean to hurt you like that.”

“Then why did you?” Louis' looking down at his lap, fingers fiddling with the hem of his sweat pants. Harry can see the hurt written across his face and it wants to reach across and kiss it away. He balls his hands into fists and crosses his arms in futile attempt to stop himself reaching out for Louis.

“Because it's like a person. A tiny little person. Not like a cat or a pet. A real human. With a fuck load of responsibility and it – not gonna lie – it creeped me out. But then Liam and Niall knocked some sense into me, told me how much of a dick I was being and yeah I realised that I don't care. I don't care if you've got a son, I don't care if you've got a hundred sons – wait no, okay that would be a bit disconcerting -” the edges of Louis' lips curve upwards in smile and he takes it in his stride and steams on. “ the point is that, I really like you Lou. You, you scare me because i've never actually felt like this with someone before. I've never felt so attached to someone in such a short amount of time even though I feel like I've known you for years. I want to be with you, properly. I want to get to know what makes you smile and what makes you tick.”

Louis clears his throat and finally speaks up. “What about Taylor?”

Harry can almost see his resolve breaking. “Taylor is insignificant. I mean that. She's not really my girlfriend, honest. I'll exlain later-”

“No Harry, you keep saying that. You always say you'll explain later but you never do. I need to know what she means to you because I can't be your bit on the side.” there's a steel determination in the elder's eyes and Harry feels like an absolute prick for making Louis wait for an explanation.

“Louis, i'd never ever make you a “bit on the side”. You don't deserve that and that's not what you'd be. Taylor and I are set up for the media. She's a beard. We're most definitely not going out, it's all just put on for the press and I know it's fucked up but I have to do what management tells us to do.” says Harry biting his lip, because speaking it out loud is like pouring fresh salt in his metaphorical wounds.

Louis looks beyond shocked. “Well. That's really shitty.” Harry can't help but laugh in agreement. “It really is.”

“Taylor has nothing to do with this. Seriously, she doesn't change the way I feel about you at all, it's just an act, I swear.”

Louis nods, eyebrows knit in thought. “Harry. I want to be with you, I really do. And I can forgive you for running away like that because deep down, I honestly didn't expect any other other reaction and it's not like it's the first time that's happened to me,” the younger frowns because Louis doesn't deserve that and the fact that he's a hypocrite because he did that to Louis riddles him with only more guilt. “but if we really do this. If we're going to take this seriously, I need to know that you're not gonna leave again. I need to make sure you really want this.”

Now, Harry can see the full extent of the damage he did with his last disappearing act and regret flares up his chest again, raw and scorching. “I'm not going to leave you again, Louis, I promise. I have no intention of leaving your side, if you let me stay of course. This past week has been horrible, just ask Liam and Niall, they'll tell you. I don't want to be away from you and I don't think I could if I tried. I just want to be with you.”

“I want to be with you too. It's just hard to believe you when you say all that and if Oli gets attached to you but then you leave, he's going to be so upset and I can't let that happen-” rambles Louis, seemingly unaware of Harry who's inching his way down the sofa to get closer to him. “Louis, I won't do that. I don't know what i've got to do to make you believe me but I promise that i'm not going to hurt either of you.” He reaches out tentatively for Louis' hand but Louis' moving away. Dread pools in his stomach and he's seconds away from getting down on his knees and _begging_ Louis to take him back, but Louis leaves the room with a “Wait here”.

Inside his bedroom, Oli's sat in the middle of the room, back to the door. He doesn't even flinch when Louis calls out his name. Stepping towards his child with caution, he crouches down and gently turns the boy around until he's sitting cross legged before Louis. 

Louis didn't expect to see two blue eyes shining with tears and salty tear tracks drying on his chubby little cheeks. Oli flings himself at his dad. “Daddy, i'm re-ally sorry, I didn't mean it. You're not the worst dad ever and I don't h-ate you, I don't daddy, I'm sorry.” the boy sobs, breath hitching and Louis releases a sigh of relief. “It's okay, love. I know you didn't mean it. It's okay.”

“B-ut I don't want you to be angry or ups-et with me-” Oli continues, hands fisting tight in Louis' shirt.

“Baby, i'm not angry or upset. Shhh breathe Oli, breathe for me,” instructs Louis as he strokes the boy's hair. He waits until the sobs have subsided before pulling away gently. “Love, do you know why daddy got mad at you?”

“Because I didn't put my toys away.” says Oli quietly, more tears forming in his eyes as he tried to blink them away. He cups the his son's cheeks tenderly. “That's right, love. And what do you say?”

“I'm really so-rry, daddy!” chokes out the little boy, hysteria beginning to build up again. Louis lifts his head to meet his own, “That's right and I forgive you, baby. Now, no more tears okay?” Oli nods rapidly before burying his face in Louis' neck.

“Ol? I need you to be a big, brave boy for me now, you think you can do that?” 

Oli nods again.

“Good boy, now there’s someone waiting in the living to meet you and I need you to be on your best behaviour and show them how polite you can be, alright?”

“Yes daddy.”

“Daddy's so proud of you and he loves you very much,” says Louis before standing up and helping the toddler to his feet. 

“Love you too daddy.”

When Louis emerges from the room, Oli's hand tight in his as he tugs the boy along behind him, he's half expecting there to be an empty space where Harry was previously sat but at the sight of wide green eyes staring back at him, Louis can't help but smile.

He urges Oli along until they're stood beside the couch.

“Oli, this is Harry. Harry this is Oli,” says Louis before nudging Oli forward towards Harry. 

“Hey, buddy, how you doing?” Harry starts, all warm smile and bright eyes.

“'M Oli and i'm four years old.”

“Wow, four years old?”

Oli nods and offers a shy smile in return. “I've-i've seen you off the tv.”

Harry laughs and Louis relaxes slightly because this is going a lot better than he expected but then again, he doesn't know what he expected at all.

“You sing?” and it's not a question, more child like curiosity than anything.

“Yeah, I do.” Harry beams at him.

“Please can you sing me a song?” and as Oli pulls his innocent wide eye look, Louis mentally congratulates himself on having such a cute son because, _damn,_ Oli is just a fucking cupcake.

 Half an hour later and Louis' sat hip to hip next to Harry with Oli resting on his lap and Harry singing gently to the room. And call him selfish and greedy, but all Louis wants is for the moment to last forever.


	6. Disclosure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's hard having to be with someone else when the right one comes along.

October crawls through into November; fuelled by copious amounts of hot chocolates and cups of teas and an exponential increase in the popularity of the coffee shop, Louis finds little to complain about but when December sneaks up on him, he's not prepared for the population of London's pregnant festivity of Christmas every time he walks down the high street because even though he's got those extra shifts at the coffee shop, he promised mum that he'd help fund half of Lottie's ski trip and with the prospect of having to buy presents for everyone looming over him, his bank account is crying out.

It's chaos as he alternates between dropping Oli off at school for his production rehearsals where the boy gained the role of Angel Gabriel in the nativity and last minute Christmas shopping because Zayn can't make up his fucking mind on what he wants, all the while he's trying to co-ordinate some sort of family get together in Doncaster and it's suddenly Christmas Eve and he's gone and fucking sellotaped his hand to the wrapping paper.

“Oh for fucking fuck's sake!” he throws the roll of offending stickiness across the kitchen table in protest and slumps in his seat and has to will himself not to facepalm the table. Counting down from ten slowly in his head and telling himself that he is a twenty year old _adult_ who is fully capable of wrapping a box in shiny paper, he begins to extract his hand from it's confines. His attempts are futile and he has to seek out his last resort.

“ZAYN!”

There's a distant clatter and distorted laughter coming from the younger boy's bedroom. Huffing like a child being denied his favourite toy he yells again.

“ZAYN! HELP ME!”

The bedroom door slams open and Zayn emerges, clad in a green festive sweater with a reindeer antler headband perched atop his perfectly quiffed hair, with Oli on his back, whose tiny arms are wrapped tightly around his flatmate's neck. The duo come bounding towards Louis and as he sees Oli's face appear from behind dark tresses he grins to match the little boy's.

“What's up Lou?” Louis merely holds up his paper and tape mutilated hand and stoves it in Zayn's face. Snorting, Zayn gently sets Oli down before taking a seat opposite Louis and meticulously unwrapping the tape.

“Doing a uni degree in English lit whilst dating the hottest guy in Britain, raised a new born baby whilst juggling a part time job and the great Tommo has been bested by a roll of sellotape. Brilliant.” Louis sends an icy glare that could freeze even the warmest of hearts towards Zayn but the other boy doesn't flinch. Oli clambers onto his lap and reaches for the box lying amongst the shredded paper. “Daddy, who's this for?” Call Louis a grinch, but after Oli spent last Christmas Eve demanding to stay up past his bedtime to meet Santa Clause, Louis had made the important decision to reveal the truth about how the presents _really_ ended up under the tree.

The box is a limited edition, super deluxe box set of One Direction's latest album that Lottie had very specifically demanded for Christmas. It wasn't the most difficult thing to obtain considering he was going out with one of the members of the band but he figures that explaining exactly _how_ he managed to acquire it was the real dilemma. And it's not that he hasn't told his family, it's more that he can't. Like he literally can't. Like he can't be seen out with Harry and their dates have to be under cover of dark in a god forsaken secluded area away from the prying lens of the media because Harry is meant to be 'dating' Taylor.

And obviously his mum knows because, duh, it's his mum.

But there's something that's been nagging at his mind though. A dark thought that turns his mind and keeps him up at night when he really should be asleep. When Harry had apologised about his running trick in the park he'd been adamant that Louis wouldn't be his 'bit on the side' yet why did it feel like he was. It only hit him when he went into his local corner shop to buy some milk and he walked past the magazine stand and there, splashed out on the cover of at least half the glossy magazines was Harry and Taylor. Or 'Haylor' as the general public liked to dub them.

He was a shadow. A translucent figure treading in Harry's footfalls, always a few steps behind to hide from the public eye. Because he was a secret. He couldn't upset One Direction's image of a model boyband and sure, he's slightly bitter about it, especially as he had to confront Harry about it when Harry pointedly refused to hold his hand after their second dinner date when there was a scattering of paparazzi around them. It was nothing a rushed handjob in the backstreet of Louis' apartment building couldn't commiserate for but then did that make Louis Harry's dirty secret?

Sometimes he imagines what it'd be like if the media knew that Harry Styles, pop's charming golden boy, was tossing off single father's down dark alleyways.

It's a murky time for Louis, deceit and debauchery staining his life as he lives and strives to be with Harry when no one is looking because sometimes all he wants is to show off this beautiful boy who sends bouquets of flowers to his door and leaves him Starbucks on the counter as a token of his exit after a night spent talking themselves to sleep and fumbling kisses.

Louis knows it's not ideal or what a stable relationship should be built on but then he's questioning whether, this, whatever they have can even be called a relationship.

What relationship centres around sneaking about and strategical planning of rendezvous times?

The night is darkest just before the dawn, and fuck the fact that he's quoting Batman because that film is one of his favourites and Christian Bale is a fine specimen of human being, and Louis' striving for that beautiful dawn but in actuality he's pretty certain that the darkest night is still to come.

 

∞∞∞

 

It's later that day when Zayn's all but bundled Louis and Oli into a car that's driving off to some unknown location that Louis instantly regrets his life choices of befriending the younger boy.

Well not completely unknown as the Rolls Royce was a bit of a giveaway that Harry had something to do with it but Louis likes to exaggerate. Oli's dozing in his car seat in the back along with Zayn and Louis who's blindfolded and squished into the middle seat between them. There's a lot of squawking and indecent elbowing as the two boys fold themselves to fit into the car and then Louis' had enough. “Zayn, you little shit, I know you've got something to do with this. I demand to know where we're going right now.” Louis tries to keep his voice stern and commanding but he can't help the grin that fights its way across his face.

“You demand? What do you think you are? Bloody royalty?” comes Zayn's retort along with a not so gentle elbow to the ribs.

“Yes.” sniffs Louis turning his head away and lifting his chin in mockery. Zayn grunts in indignation.

“But for real, you do realise that it's Christmas Eve right?” There's a pause and Louis can practically _feel_ Zayn frowning. “Louis, you're not. It's. Just. Never mind.” There's a worrying hesitation in his reply and Louis doesn't want to explore it any more so he lets it drop.

Only when he's ushered out the car and into a building and his blindfold is removed and all he can see are a rainbow assortment of balloons and a giant ass banner that reads 'Happy Birthday Louis!' along with a loud cheer does he understand the cause of Zayn's earlier conflict.

Like a fucking moron, he'd forgotten his birthday. He should be commended and given the world's most idiotic award because who the fuck forgets their own birthday? Louis, obviously.

Well it's not like anyone bothered to remind him he thinks haughtily before he's cut off by the sight of five familiar females standing in the room. “Mum?”

“Happy Birthday, love!” she says with a smile before Louis is letting go of Oli's hand and throwing himself into her embrace. Burying his nose in her hair, she smells like almond cookies and that Chanel perfume he bought her for her birthday and it's like a tidal wave of nostalgia washing over him and filling his senses because he hasn't seen her in what feels likes ages and he's allowed to miss his mum, alright?

When he pulls away, Jay runs a hand down his cheek. “My boy's all grown up!” Her eyes are all misty and Louis realises that holy shit, he's twenty fucking one.

Drawing away from her, he does a quick sweep of the room and sees Liam and Niall stood next to a large table crammed with food talking animatedly to Zayn and Oli and then there's Harry and he knows right away from the boy's sheepish expression that Harry organised this whole bonanza. He's hovering a few steps away from Louis like he's afraid of over stepping Louis' family moment and fuck, that's so endearing and Louis knows he's smiling like an idiot.

He doesn't have time to gape at him anymore though because he's soon being attacked by the twins. “LuLu! LuLu we were waiting ages for you!” Phoebe's wrapped her arms tightly around one of his jean clad thighs and Daisy's tugging on his jumper sleeve. It's like being back at home, he reminisces as he crouches down and opens his arms for them whilst struggling not to topple over with the force of the two of them leaning heavily against him.

“You monsters! Look how much you've grown!”

“I'm taller than Daisy now!” says Phoebe much to the derision of her sister who argues back, and as World War 3 starts to evolve from his simple statement, Louis decides that after a hug and a hair ruffle for his two other younger sisters and a whispered “Oh my god, Louis, you know One Direction!” from Lottie, it's time to visit Harry.

When he gets his hug off the younger boy, he forgets all his previous misgivings and revels in the warmth of his body pressed firmly against his own and the happiness that seems to radiate from Harry. “Happy Birthday, beautiful.” says Harry before he presses a chaste kiss to the soft skin on Louis' cheek and he hopes to god that their hair is enough to cover the action because he is going to be in such deep shit with Lottie if she sees, and he's pulling away much too soon so as to avoid making their contact look like anything but two friends embracing each other. There's that look in Harry's eyes that Louis can clearly read as 'I understand' and Louis can't resist smiling gently at him.

After an easy introduction to the two other members of One Direction where Louis had to hold back from fan girling like a pre-teen, they're all gathered on the expensive looking sofas that put Louis and Zayn's to shame when Louis demands his presents to cover up his embarrassment when Zayn announces to the gathering that he'd forgotten his own birthday.

“As if you actually forgot,” sniggers Zayn whilst playfully tossing his present at the birthday boy.

Louis pointedly ignores him and tears the paper violently. Harry shifts closer to him so inconspicuously that only Louis notices and the older can feel patterns being traced along his back.

The paper falls away and nestled amongst the mess is a Polaroid camera; a private joke between the friends which Louis refuses to explain because getting drunk with your best friend and trying to steal a polaroid camera from Tesco at age 16 is not something he wants to share with One Direction.

His family get him his favourite aftershave, he receives a Starbucks giftcard from Liam, a Nandos gift card from Niall and his personal favourite is the pair of tickets for The Script which is given to him from Harry.

He nearly leans in for a kiss but stops himself just in time and busies his hands with balling up the rubbish.

Louis learns that One Direction as a whole are unsurprisingly good with Oli and he pawns his boy off to them as he sneaks off to the kitchen where his mum is lying in wait.

“I can't believe you guys came down and I didn't even know.” says Louis as he wraps an arm around her waist and leans down to rest his head on her shoulder.

She flicks his forehead. “I can't believe you actually forgot it was your birthday!”

“Urgh. I've been stressed and tired so excuse me for not remembering! Is no one going to let it go?!”

“Not bloody likely, love!” Huffing in fake exasperation, Louis turns to leave but is quickly pulled back by gentle fingers clasped around his wrist. “Stroppy Louis! Don't pout at me!” They have a glare off before Louis resigns and resumes his earlier position and leans against his mum.

Jay runs her fingertips through her son's hair. “Harry really likes you.”

Forgotten is their mock fight and Louis stands up straighter. “Really?”

“Louis, that boy looks at you like you're the sun, moon and stars. I'm positively certain he'd go and find the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow if you asked him to.”

“You think so?” This is what he's been waiting to hear. To hear from someone else, that confirmation that Harry reciprocates what he feels and Louis isn't just love drunk and head over heels for his curly haired boy.

“I know so.”

“So you approve?”

“I approve. Baby, he could have three eyes and extra limbs and i'd still approve as long as he made you happy.”

Louis can sense the 'but' coming and braces himself for it. “Just be careful, Lou.” There's no 'but' but it's implied and he wishes he could tell his mum how many times he's told himself that. To not get in too deep and to not give himself up so completely and utterly that he'd lose himself if he lost Harry.

After being caked in the face, testing out his new camera and strongly requesting that everyone sing to him, Louis makes it home at around half ten with Oli tucked away asleep into his neck.

His mum and the girls are staying in a nearby hotel and go round Louis' flat for Christmas Day. Zayn leaves at around noon to visit his own parents and Harry manages to drop by, much to the horror of Lottie who insists that she isn't 'prepared' for his unexpected arrival. The star leaves after an hour or so of Harry and Oli playing together with Oli's new toys and Louis manages to share a sneaky kiss with his boyfriend just before he leaves. It's all very stressful having a flat full of children barging around his home but it's Christmas and Louis' never experienced it any other way.

 

∞∞∞

Harry's meant to be meeting Louis for sushi tonight because tomorrow's New Year's Eve and he knows he's expected to ring in the new year at some private yet paparazzi infested party full of celebrities who the tabloids would just _love_ to catch him with, yet all he wants to do is spend it with his boy. What he didn't count on was management calling him in for an abrupt meeting.

He thinks of Louis waiting at his house for him to pick him up and whisk him away as Oli and Zayn spend the night with Liam and Niall. He should be with them, but he's not. Instead, he's sitting in a too expensive to be comfortable chair in a currently empty boardroom.

Harry scrolls through his twitter feed aimlessly as he waits. His stomach churns in mild surprise at what he reads.

**@1_D_4_EVA: but @Harry_Styles and @taylorswift13 are literally the cutest couple**

**@niallsbraces: reckon @taylorswift13 has finally found a keeper @Harry_Styles**

**@haylor_rules: if you don't ship @Harry_Styles and @tayorswift13 I will hunt you down and cut you**

**@liam_payner: so @Harry_Styles and @taylorswift13 are actually starting to grow on me.**

These comments stretch across his timeline and he never expected this response. He knows that the fans hated Taylor at the beginning of their stunt and even went so far as to send her death threats and the fact that their fans actually support them now makes him nauseous because his fans liking 'Haylor' is so much worse then them hating it. It's some weird mental issue, Harry thinks, because he feels like in pleasing them, he's actually just lying to them all and he hates that. Hates how manipulated it began off with and now it's spiralling out of control.

A tweet catches his eye.

**@harryandtay: much prefer to see @Harry_Styles with @taylorswift13 instead of in his womanising ways.**

And it hurts. So much about the tweet is wrong and just generally a huge misconception and he wants so bad to rant back at this person and correct them and then kill his management team for setting up his 'womanising rep' up in the first place.

Harry's mentally listing the thirty second way he wants to screw over management when two members of his team walk in.

“Good evening, Mr Styles.” the man says. He has a handle bar moustache and Harry thinks it's ridiculous.

“Thank you for meeting with us on such short notice.” the lady next to handlebar 'tache finishes. Harry's seen her before. She was there when the whole 'Haylor' situation was initiated. He hates her for that.

“As you may know, the reception from your fans about you and Taylor has transformed from dislike to actually supporting you two. Because of this, we're giving you an option to end your contract with her early.” Harry sits up straighter in his seat. It's like God has answered his prayers.

“Representatives from Taylor's management informed us that Taylor has formed a bit of an emotional bond with you. In fact, she's apparently rather smitten.” It's all words and meaningless sentences to Harry because he really doesn't care. All he wants is a pen and to be shown where to sign on the dotted line to end this awful mess.

“Due to this, you can either break it off with Taylor and have it highly publicised. This will obviously draw more attention to One Direction and we're also counting on Taylor's musical creativity and skills and expect that she'll no doubt write a song about you. This will also bring in more publicity.” and that's really not what Harry wanted to hear. He doesn't want to be labelled a heart breaker and a womaniser. He didn't want Taylor fucking Swift to fall for him. He just wants an easy, clean break. Although, he won't be tied down by his responsibilities to her any more. No more fake dates and blowing Louis off because he has to be at the airport to pick up Taylor and no more fake articles written about his love for Taylor which he _knows_ Louis reads and gets hung up about and that's something he never, ever wants. “Or you can continue to date her. The fans will encourage it and if you guys play it up, it might even attract some of Taylor's fanbase into becoming yours too.”

“It's up to you.”

 _They're some pretty shit options_ , Harry thinks.

The way he sees it he can either gain his freedom through dumping her and have to deal with the shitstorm of media frenzy that will no doubt follow but be completely and entirely dedicated to Louis, or be selfish and carry on with this lie, string Taylor along, expand his fanbase and keep them happy and watch as Louis descends into poorly disguised misery.

Harry thinks he might have an aneurysm.

“Harry, we need a decision soon so -” says handle bar 'tache but Harry's not having any of it.

“For god's sake, you can't expect me to be able to make a decision so quickly. Give me a fucking sec.”

He closes his eyes at the silence and buries his face in his palms, fingers rubbing his eyes until he can see lights popping being his eye lids.

Happy Louis, freedom and bullshit from the tabloids or upset Louis, being chained down with Taylor and a happy fanbase.

He can keep torturing himself with his options but he knows, deep down, that he's already made his choice.

Harry stops at a red light on his way back to his house and rests his head on the wheel.

He tells himself he's doing it for Niall and Liam. Tells himself it's all for the well being of the band.

When he gets through the door and Louis' heading towards him for a welcome hug, Harry can't quite meet his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about the delay in updates, haven't had a free weekend to write in about two months but now i'm off for holidays so i'm hoping to get this finished soon :)  
> as always, i don't have a beta so i apologise if there are any mistakes! please let me know if you spot anything!


	7. Gaiety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's hard having to be with someone else when the right one comes along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So saaaarrrry about the lateness of this chapter :/  
> But good news: this fic will have 12 chapters which means that we've passed the half way mark!  
> If i finish this story, it will be the first story i have ever finished, yay! (let's forget about all the other fics i've started and unfortunately abandoned)
> 
> WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS VERY BADLY WRITTEN SMUT. I APOLOGISE FOR THE AWFULNESS, I AM STILL LEARNING. PROCEED WITH CAUTION.  
> anyway....on with the chapter.

 

When Louis was 16, he went to his first ever concert.

It was some local band that played this tiny little venue in Doncaster that barely passed as a venue, where the soles of his shoes stuck to the floor as he walked and the stage looked ready to collapse if anyone other than the band playing went on. The toilets looked like they were festering in STDs and the walls were painted with ominous looking stains that Louis was certain were from someone projectile vomiting the contents of their stomach, no doubt as a result from the venue's bar which sold suspiciously low priced alcohol which was probably illegally brewed in the basement and unfit for human consumption.

Louis thinks that it may or may not be the reason why he's never been to another concert since then.

Well, up until now.

He's up in some private box at the London O2 arena that most people only ever dream of having the privilege of being in. There's a table with a vast array of drinks tucked away in the corner and as he stands by the glass window and surveys the mass of crammed people below him in the standing area, a large hand curls around his hip and a firm body lines up against his back. “You having fun, babe?” murmurs Harry, lips parted and trailing sinfully along the back of Louis' neck, his hand that's not around the shorter boy's waist reaches down and links their fingers together.

Louis can't keep the shit eating grin off his face because the show hasn't even started yet, the first support group still setting up their equipment. “I'm having a fucking ball watching them set up their amps and tuning their guitars. That guy in the red has got a mighty fine ass that i'm having way too much fun gaping at. Hot damn.”

But then Harry's biting down on the joint between his neck and shoulder and Louis' whimpering unashamedly. Harry sucks and licks along the flushed skin where indents from his teeth have marred the surface. “You best not be having too much fun.”

“I dunno, look at it.” says Louis and just as he says it, the 'guy in red' bends down to tape a wire to the floor and Louis groans in mock approval. Harry hums in agreement before leaning right down to whisper in Louis' ear. “I'm looking at something much better.” he nips at Louis' ear and grabs a handful of Louis' ass and gives it a gentle squeeze. Louis squeals in surprise and bats Harry's offending hand away and tries to compose himself and calm his heart beat down because it's definitely not beating at a 100mph.

Louis watches the first support band through half lidded eyes and a slack mouth and Harry's hand down his pants jerking him off in beat with one of their songs. He comes just as the singer hits a spectacularly high note and the whine Louis emits could possibly rival it, he thinks. He's left with soiled underwear but he's not going to complain because Harry has got the most lovely hands and boy does he know how to put them to good use.

The second support group is a mystery to Louis as he spends their set with his back to the stage, on his knees in front of Harry.

By the time The Script arrive on stage they're both sated, leaning heavily against each other for support, arms wrapped tightly around the other.

The riff of the electric guitar and the bass of the drum barely effects them they're that far away but Louis loves it none the less because he's not really got a history of gigs to compare it to. He could be anywhere with Harry and he'd enjoy himself, Louis thinks.

When Danny holds out the microphone to the crowd, both boys scream along to the words and for a split second it feels as though they're one with the crowd and Harry's perusing over how they suddenly feel so insignificant in this whole arena of people, how normal it feels. But those thoughts never last for long because the harsh reality is that they were smuggled through a back exit of the venue and will be herded into a waiting taxi afterwards to minimise exposure to the public. It's shitty and Harry knows it's all his fault because he shouldn't have to hide Louis any more but he literally decided to keep him engulfed in the shadows and he can't change that because he has to keep the fans happy. It's not just for him; if One Direction started their descent to a failure of a boyband because the fans couldn't accept his sexual orientation, it would destroy Niall and Liam. He can't do that to them. As horrific and gut wrenchingly awful as it sounds, One Direction comes before Louis and it always will.

And the worst part? No one even fucking knows. The boys are still under the impression that his original contract with Taylor is valid and he just can't bring himself to tell anyone about the new situation because no matter how happy the fans are, he's still so utterly stuck. Louis is too good for him and he knows it and no one, especially not Louis, deserves to be lied to and publicly disowned.

“You're thinking too hard.”

There's bile rising in the back of Harry's throat from pure self-disgust and he can't even answer. Turning away to clear his throat, he can't even look at Louis when he responds with a non-committal mumble.

It's just gone 10pm and the show's beginning to wind down, an acoustic set leading the wave of glow sticks hovering in the air. Inside their private box Harry's wrapped around Louis like a squid, ample hands clasping delicate wrists and neck tucked over his shoulder. The silence is comfortable and the younger boy soaks it up, relishing in the scarce moment of complete contention so unlike the calamities of touring with his group and the constant passive war he wages on the press.

Danny brings a member of the crowd onstage and there's a striking resemblance between the lucky fan, whose dreams are no doubt coming true, and Louis' best friend so he snaps a picture before sending it to Zayn along with the caption _'long lost brothers???'_

Something clicks in Harry’s brain as he realises that he doesn't actually know much about this boy nestling in to his chest. Besides their steady stream of trivial texts passed back and forth, Harry's pretty sure that Louis' never really opened up about, well, about anything really.

Harry tries for nonchalant. “So, how'd you know Zayn?” The abnormally high pitch of his voice when he speaks is anything but nonchalant.

Louis grins and mutters a puberty joke before replying. “I've known Zayn since forever. He's a right lad but he can be a bit over protective.” _Oh I know,_ Harry thinks darkly remembering his first encounter with the boy in question and how he'd walked away with a bruised cheek.

“We went to school together, been best mates since we were both put on the footie team in Donny back in year 9. He's stuck with me since.” It's a very casual answer, and that's what Harry's got a problem with. He tries to pry some more.

“That's awesome. 'M glad you had someone to help you look after Oli.” he noses at Louis' cheek to diffuse the bluntness of his statement. Louis tenses nonetheless.

“Hmm. Me too.”

Harry wants to cry with frustration because getting Lou to open up is like trying to draw blood from a stone. A very sharp stone with lots and lots of layers. It's time to whip out the big guns.

“What happened with...Oli's mum? If you don't mind me asking.” and there he finally said it. He draws Louis closer to him as he waits for the consequences of the proverbial blow.

The ten second silence almost has Harry backtracking but then Louis' taking his hand and nesting his head even further into his neck. “I've not really been fair to you have I?” his mournful tone makes Harry want to eat his own words and forget he ever said anything because he has a bad feeling about where the conversation is heading. He doesn't get to answer as Louis trundles on. “You've done so much for me, for us, and i've given you nowt back. God I feel like such a twat.” he laughs bitterly.

“Hey, hey, hey it's fine. I don't mind. I like making you happy.” Harry chokes on his words because Louis' wrong and Harry really doesn't deserve him, the whole issue with his extended contract with Taylor crawls away under his skin and sends waves of nauseousness through his body. He's rewarded with one of Louis' tiny little fists batting against his chest and it's so ridiculously endearing how small Louis is and how he couldn't maim Harry if he tried. “No, stop that. You're doing it again. Stop being such a gentleman. It's not fair.” and Louis' referring to what he likes to call Harry's 'Gentleman-Complex' or in other words, Harry's inability to be anything other than selfless.

Harry wants to throw up.

“Eleanor and I went out for two and half years before Oli came along. I think at some point, I genuinely thought I was going to marry her. Oh how naïve my younger self was. But yeah, I used to think the world of her and I really didn't think we'd end like how we did. It was the summer before we started sixth form and I guess we weren't, really, erm careful, and yeah, boom. Oli was created. I went through a bit of a, er, transitory period during her pregnancy and by the time Oli was born, she had changed her attitude about me and didn't want to raise a child with someone who had just come out. Oli was two weeks old when she upped and left for some special Med school college course in Edinburgh and we haven't heard from her since. Zayn helped a lot with my studies and stuff but at the end of the day I was just some kid who had a new born baby to take care off and my grades suffered and no uni wanted to take me. The London Met got in touch and offered me a scholarship and Zayn stuck to my side ever since.”

There's relief etched across the older boy's face but Harry can see the hesitation shining in the blue of his eyes so he cups his cheek and kisses him slowly, licking with vigour and yet tenderness into the warm heat of Louis' mouth because he sure isn't going to be running away from him again.

They draw away gasping for air with what feels like an electric current racing through their veins. “I'm so sorry you had to go through that.” says Harry, their breath mingling as their foreheads press together. The thousands of people behind them are no longer relevant and the band's encore fades into white noise ringing insignificantly in their ears.

“Don't be.” says Louis, pulling away from Harry in jerky movements as people walk past their box because there's still the off chance that someone might recognise Harry and not hesitate to snap a picture. Louis' knees quiver and he has to brace himself against the glass screen in order to stay upright. He can't remember the last time he felt this, this giddy with affection and it's overwhelming but his mind is screaming _moremoremore._

Harry throws caution to the wind and reaches for his hand, desperate for some contact and Louis dare not reprimand him for his negligence because the mega watt smile lighting up the younger's face is something that should never change. “The only people that should be sorry are the uneducated twats who constantly ribbed me back at school for having a kid because look where I am now; here with someone who's worth a million of them.” Louis says fiercely and it tips Harry over the edge because Louis' just poured open his past and opened up his heart to show Harry everything he is and Harry can't help but embrace him tightly because he can't look at Louis any more, not when he's lying to his face every second of every day.

 

∞∞∞

 

The stairs up to Harry's bedroom take way too long to navigate, Louis decides. It might be the uncomfortable situation going on in his pants or the fact that Harry is refusing to detach his mouth from Louis'.

When they fall through the door, Harry's spinning them around and backing Louis up until his head is thudding against the wood of the closed door. There's a pair of lips marking up the exposed skin on his bare neck and Louis' weaving his fingers in to Harry's hair, hips rutting forward.

“C-c'mon Harry,” whines Louis, and he's pretty sure his skin is on fire from the way Harry's large hands are caressing his hips and sliding along the curve of his bum, grasping the firmness in his palms.

Harry only bites him on the column of his neck, licking and sucking along the red spot where blood is rushing to the surface. Admiring his handiwork, he gives the darkening mark a kiss before capturing Louis' lips once more.

The tension is static in the air causing every fibre and hair on their bodies to stand on end, goosebumps left in the wake of roaming fingertips. A series of moans run off the tip of Louis tongue and then he's pushing Harry away and lifting his shirt over his head before his own. Their jeans are tossed haphazardly somewhere in the room when Louis loses all composure and grinds slow and dirty against the tent in Harry's boxers.

“Fucking hell, Lou,” says Harry but he's not complaining at all judging by the way he's reciprocating the action. “Shut up, i'm a single dad and I haven't had sex in about a year and a half and if you don't do something soon i'm actually going to jump you,” groans Louis as he slips his hand into the back of Harry's boxers and pulls him even closer.

“You haven't had sex in – holy shit Lou, how have you -” he's cut off by soft lips pressing firmly against his and a tongue sliding against his. “Oh Louis,” he trails his mouth behind the smaller boy's ear and licks against that spot that has Louis positively shaking and grinding against Harry in earnest. “P-please, Harry.” he gasps through swollen lips.

When Harry slips his bare thigh between his legs, that's the ticket, and Louis' rutting against him fast and frantic. The barrier of fabric of his boxers is almost painful and drives him to move even faster, orgasm nearing as he picks up rhythm and speed. Harry's sliding his thigh back and forth in time with him and the feel of Louis' outline hard against him makes his cock twitch in its confines. A train of “uh's” and “oh's” pass through Louis' parted lips as heat pools in his gut and coils tight like a spring. He's clinging to Harry's shoulders, biceps, forearms, hands constantly searching for purchase as he rocks himself harder against Harry's thigh. Harry's got his own hands wrapped lightly around Louis' hips, pulling him closer and intensifying the pleasure for both of them.

On a particularly hard thrust of his thigh, Louis' sensory overload implodes in release as he comes, fireworks exploding behind his eyes and a tingling sensation running riot throughout his body leaving him spent. He flops bonelessly onto Harry, the younger holding him upright when Louis feels his erection poking hard into his hip.

When his breath comes back to him, he's falling gracelessly to his knees whilst dragging Harry's boxers down with him. Harry's arms fly upwards as he braces his hands flat against the door as his cock springs free.

There's a shiny bead of precome glistening on the tip of his dick and he's panting for breathe as Louis wraps a hand around the base of his cock. He stops breathing for a second when Louis ducks down and envelops the swollen head, tongue massaging the slit as his fingers run down and over his balls. “Oh god, Lou,” he gasps, abs clenching in a telltale sign that he's so very close. Louis' cheekbones grow even more pronounced than usual as he hollows in his cheeks and sucks in inch after inch of Harry. It's his second blowjob of the night and he's wondering how Louis is so skilful with his mouth. He knows the moment when his cock hits the soft flesh of the back of Louis' throat as Louis gives a little splutter, which sends vibrations around his dick and Harry really has to stop himself from fucking forwards, but Louis doesn't move. Instead he relaxes his jaw and takes Harry impossibly further and Harry's almost coming from the sight of Louis deepthroating like a fucking pro.

Louis bobs his head as he sucks and licks along Harry's shaft and when Harry sees that despite Louis' best efforts, he's still only halfway down Harry's cock because Harry is really _that_ big. Not that he's bragging but the sight of Louis trying and failing to take him all the way down is enough to get him off and he's releasing straight down Louis' throat and the elder just swallows obediently, milking him for all he's worth.

He lets Harry slip from his mouth, cock softening and limp, and sits back of his haunches looking up at the other boy with wide unfocused eyes. Louis looks so fucking obedient and innocent that Harry just wants to manhandle him and wreck him until he's falling apart and crying out from exhaustion yet the other part of his brain wants their first time to be tender and passionate. God, he hates dilemmas.

“How opposed to a round two would you be?”

He's not prepared for Louis attacking his lips whilst simultaneously discarding his boxers and Harry loses his balance and ends up pressing Louis hard into the door, arms boxing around the older boy's head as they make out heatedly. Without the constraints of their underwear the slide of skin on skin is intensified and Harry can feel Louis arching his back into his chest keen to eliminate all distance between them.

“Harry, I need you. Need you now. Please.” moans Louis, wrapping his arms around Harry's neck to pull him back in for a searing kiss. He's so polite, Harry thinks, such a good boy.

“What do you need baby?” Harry's leaving open mouthed kisses to Louis' neck and then Louis' guiding his hand down to cup his ass and over the soft puckered skin of his entrance. “Need you, in me.”

Nodding in confirmation, Harry's recaptures his boy's lips and gently pries Louis' mouth open with a firm yet tentative tongue where he meets Louis' lying in wait and they clash, battling for dominance, teeth clanking together before extricating himself from Louis' embrace. For a second he's apprehensive about Louis' ability to stand up straight and hold himself upright on his own and Harry's racing to his bedside table for lube and when he returns to Louis he catches the boy just as his knees give out. “I've got you babe, it's all good. I got you.”

He turns Louis around and bends him at the hip so his arms are supporting him against the door, leaving his backside exposed. Harry knocks his legs apart and moves in behind him. Trailing a hand up the notches of Louis' spine he opens the bottle of lube with the other.

Louis' head hangs down between his arms, shoulder blades rising prominently with each shuddering breath and it reminds him of wings. Glorious angel wings and it's so fitting because Louis is literally the epitome of an angelic being.

“'M gonna make you feel good. You alright Lou?”his fingers were coated with lube and poised behind Louis' behind, ready to move in on him. At the nod and wiggle of the smaller boy's hips he slowly pulls one of his cheeks to the side and runs his fingers along the line of his crack, knuckles dragging over the clenching hole.

The first finger slides in easily but it's so fucking _tight_ and Harry's starting to doubt whether they're going to manage to do this without hurting someone. Retracting and plunging his forefinger into the warmth, he can feel the smooth walls and then he's sliding in his middle finger as well. He can feel the ring of muscle around Louis' hole is protesting at the intrusion as he coaxes a path with his fingers. Louis' shifting slightly and if Harry listens hard enough he can hear the small noises of contention and it spurs him on, a third finger joining the other two.

Beads of sweat are dotting along his hairline and he can see a sheen of it glistening on Louis' back, exertion completely overruled by the testosterones running rampant through his being.

Louis' hole is loosening slightly and he's so _wet_ from all the lube but even with three fingers up his ass he's still obscenely tight and it's near suffocating Harry. He tries scissoring his fingers when he unintentionally hits that spot, the spot that has Louis tensing like a spring and moaning unabashed. “T-here Haz, yes, there, more.” tumbles from his mouth and Harry's aiming for the bundle of nerves again and again, until he can feel the clench of his boyfriends hole and then Louis' panting hoarsely, “H-arry, stop. Stop. I'm going t-to, Ha-rry!”

There's a second of palpable recognition in Harry's mind as Louis' back arches lewdly as he comes for the third time that night without warning. He's mind fucked at how the other boy manages it but then he's being reprimanded with a whine as he realises that his fingers have yet to stop rubbing against Louis' prostate.

“S-sorry. I can't. Oh god. Harry i'm sorry. I still want you though. Please.” Louis' saying, arms quivering from holding himself up and the over stimulation that's coursing through his blood. “Shh babe, don't apologise. It's fine. D'you think you can come again?” assures Harry as he bends down to track a line of kisses across the shivering boy's back.

“Don't know. Want to try.” Harry can feel the blood pumping in his ears at Louis' admission because he's so _willing_ and eager to please and, fuck, it's so _hot._ “Need to get a condom.” says the younger but he's stopped by a slur of “No, don't need it.” and before he has a chance to consider the possibility of the consequences of unprotected sex, he's turning Louis around, and hoisting the boy up against the hardwood door.

Wrapping strong, thick thighs around his waist, there's a softening cock pressed against his own straining dick. Pulling the body higher so that his hole is just above Harry's dick, he curls two fingers inside Louis to check he's open enough before tilting forward to nibble the shell of his ear. “You ready?” He feels the swish of feathered hair in verification. “I'm going to make love to you now,” taints the air before he's pushing in slowly, the fat head of his cock stretching Louis' entrance. There's a hiss of breath and when he's told to proceed, he's fucking in slowly, inch by inch until he's halfway impaled and there's an utterance of “Stop!”

“Did I hurt you?! Oh god, i'm so sorry -”

“No, no. You're just really huge. Like ridiculously well endowed,” a shaky laugh follows and Harry feels himself blushing yet he's slightly apprehensive because there's no way he's going to pull out now, doesn't think he's actually able to.

“Just give me a sec.” he hears as he focuses all his pent up energy on locking down his muscles and stilling but it's then that he starts to feel the effects of holding up the other boy and it's not like Louis weighs a lot, it's just that his muscles are straining and he's beginning to doubt if he's going to be able to hold this position for much longer.

“Okay, i'm good.” is like music to his ears because Harry's moving again, edging in, advancing even when he hears Louis' breath falter in discomfort.

When he's bottomed out, his legs are cramping and he can only manage a few sharp thrusts before stopping again.

“For a musician, you've got really shitty rhythm.” Louis jokes through the haze of coming three times in a night.

“Hey! But seriously, babe, I think we're going to have to move this to the bed.” says Harry trying to flip his fringe out of his eyes.

“Are you calling me fat, Styles?” Louis replies with as much sass as he can muster before tightening his limbs around the popstar.

“No not at all but I have to say that this is one voluptuous ass you have going on.” to emphasise his point he squeezes the round cheeks as he crosses the room to his bed, Louis hanging onto him like a koala bear.

Nestled on top of the soft cotton bedspread, Harry resumes his assault on Louis' hole and pounds in with ungodly intention, his prominent aciculated hip bones digging into the smooth flesh on the backs of Louis' thighs.

He knows the moment he locates Louis' prostate because his cock starts to harden again under Harry's belly and it must be painful but Harry drives on nonetheless.

“Uh, oh, Harry, I can't, oh god – ” the stream of nonsense fills the room and there's a spark of euphoria penetrating deep into the hollow of his bones battling against the pain of constant over stimulation and Louis' crying; fat tear drops falling down flushed cheeks because it's _too much_.

When Harry comes, hot streams painting the warm cavern and claiming him as his own, he all but collapses onto the body beneath him only to see the salty pools of crystal blue. “Oh love.” he whispers wiping away the moisture.

“I can't. It hurts.” croaks Louis, eyes closing and fingers gripping the bed so hard his knuckles have turned white.

“Come on, Lou. Once more. I know you can.” coaches Harry as he grips Louis' pathetically hard cock. Louis cries out, breath catching on a sob as Harry jerks him off in long, slow swipes of his hand. He can't even breathe as his chest heaves for precious air.

A pang of remorse hits Harry when Louis comes dry but it's replaced by pride because Louis looks so blissed out, like a cat that got the cream and proceeded to drink the cream until it suffered sensory overload.

“So proud of you baby, so proud, so beautiful.”

For once there's no sassy reply and he's worried that he might have permanently damaged Louis but then the boy is tucking himself into Harry's chest and breathing him in deep. It's a simple gesture that makes his heart swell and by the time he returns the action, Louis' already half asleep.

“I'm so glad I spilt coffee on you.” the smaller of them sleepily mumbles without opening his eyes.

“I'm so glad I came back to you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hasn't been beta'd so if you spot anything amiss, please do let me know.  
> thanks for sticking with this, i appreciate it!  
> and a special thank you to everyone who comments and leaves kudos, they mean so much to me :)
> 
> tumblr - rainingnostalgia  
> (y'know incase you wanna say hi or drop me a prompt!)


	8. Shunned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's hard having to be with someone else when the right one comes along

There are times when Harry finds his fans pretty overwhelming.

Like when they've cornered him in Topman and are taking pictures of the boxers he's trying to buy. It's not exactly an ideal situation, far from it, and when he's finally rescued by security and parcelled into a taxi on his way back to Louis', he's debating whether new, clean underwear was really worth the hour and a half fan frenzy.

“Babe, you look like you've been attacked by a Sharpie monster.” Louis humours him when he turns up on the boy's doorstep.

“Might as well have been,” he replies as he pulls the shorter boy in for a welcome hug and godamnit he's got pen all up his arms, exposed from his tshirt. He never realised how violent girls can get with writing instruments.

Shaking his head as if to expel the experience, he pulls away when a pitter patter of footsteps comes pelting towards him. “Harry!” the exuberant boy is lifted in his tattooed arms and he spins Oli round like a helicopter. “Hey, buddy!”

“Harry! Harry! You missed Spongebob! You promised you'd watch it with me!” the small pout on his little cherub face isn't anywhere near sincere enough to make Harry worried about actually upsetting the toddler but he apologises nonetheless.

“I'm sorry, pal. Harry had to go to the shops but now i'm back we can watch the Smurfs film. What d'ya say?” the words are barely out of his mouth before Oli's dragging him by the hand to the sofa.

“Harry you're an awful influence.”

The younger boy snorts. “I am an _excellent_ role model thank you very much.” Harry's got his body sprawled flat out on the sofa, Oli resting on his stomach.

Louis enters the living room with an apple and brilliant poker face. “If my son ends up with square eyes i'm actually going to sue you.” There's a second where Harry's genuinely worried but Louis' façade slips and he's grinning before the title screen of the film begins to play.

He parts his legs to let Louis occupy the open space before he feels a hand tugging his wrist and linking their fingers together. Louis' facing the screen but there's a hint of a smile on his sculpted face and that's all Harry needs for now.

When the credits are rolling, Oli's out like a light with his head lolling against Louis' shoulder which is backed up into Harry's chest; the three of them all smushed together like a human pile on.

Harry's left arm is numb from the dead weight of the elder boy lying half on him and when he cranes his head to meet his eyes he's met with a peacefully sleeping boy. He snaps a picture awkwardly with one hand of the three of them before extracting himself from the tangle of limbs.

When he tugs his leg out from under them, it causes a landslide and father and son come crashing down on to the sofa.

“Oh shit, sorry!” apologises Harry. He's waving his hands frantically and kneeling down before them as Louis blinks groggily up at him, Oli stirring as well.

“Did you just -” Louis' voice is rough from disuse and Oli's blinking wide and surprisingly alert for having just been woken up. “Oh fuck, i'm so sorry – oh god I didn't mean it!” backtracks Harry quickly, one large paw of a hand slapped over his mouth. His eyes are the size of saucers and if Louis had the energy to laugh at how comical he looked, he would.

“S'alright Haz. Watch.”

Louis turns to Oli who's sucking on his thumb, head still resting on his father's chest and gazing serenely at Harry. He's disturbingly calm and quiet, so unlike a few hours ago. “Oli, sweetie. What did I say about swearing?”

“That only adults can use swears and i'm not allowed to swears until i'm five and tenty.” recites Oli and he beams when Louis nods approvingly at him. “Well done, love. But it's tw-en-ty five.”

“Twe-nty five.” Oli parrots back and Harry is pretty sure his heart just leapt out of his chest and straight into Louis' skilled hands.

Sometimes when Oli calls him 'Uncle Harry' he gets this tingling sensation of a rampage of butterflies in his stomach that travels down to his toes and warms his fingertips and when Oli gave him a picture he drew at school of the three of them holding hands he's certain that he didn't stop smiling for the rest of the day. He's always been the paternal kind and Oli is no exception. He even went with Louis to pick Oli up from school one day, well he hid in his car but it counts all the same.

Oli represents a solidity in this dysfunctional relationship because no matter how much Harry has to pretend him and Louis are nothing other than mundane friends, Oli is his stability. There's nothing he wouldn't do for that little boy and often it scares Harry how attached he's grown but what scares him even more is how easily both Oli and Louis slotted into his life.

They're the ying to his yang, the Romeo to Juliet, the Bonnie to Clyde and every other obscure metaphor he can think of.

Later when Oli's asleep in the bedroom and Louis and Harry are curled up watching the news under a blanket, the inevitable is brought up and even though Harry knew it would occur sometime of another, he may or may not have deluded himself in thinking that if he didn't mention it, it might go away.

“I wish you didn't have to go meet her at the airport tomorrow.”

Louis doesn't say her name but at the pronoun Harry already knows who he's talking about. Taylor's become a sort of taboo subject and whenever she is brought up in conversation it always feels like they're treading on eggshells. As though if Harry spends too long a conversation topic on her, he might slip up and give the game away.

“I'm sorry babe. You know what management are like.” he leans down to kiss Louis' forehead, fingers stroking the smaller boy's arm soothingly.

“But what are her drivers even for?” huffs Louis petulantly with a pout crossing his lips and a crease between his eyebrows. It's cute how childish he looks but Harry doesn't want to be kicked off the sofa so he keeps that titbit of information to himself for his own safety. “Lords knows. You know it's just for the cameras, yeah?”

The other boy nods and nuzzles his head into Harry's chest. Harry wonders if he can hear how rapidly his heart is beating because he's not exactly being entirely truthful to him.

“And after, i'll come straight back here. I'll even bring you back Starbucks.”

The grounds of his new contract with Taylor seemed harmless, well as harmless as possible, at first. All he had to do was keep her happy and play up their little stunt. Only, the dynamic of their relationship began to change and it's not like Harry could not acknowledge it and keep her content.

What management had described as “an emotional bond” was more like a fucking infatuation or bloody obsession, Harry thinks. She'd flown him over to the states for some family function and was coercing him into buying a house stateside. Too fucking far. But it's not like he can do anything because he knows how she works; the slightest upset and BAM she writes some fucking chart-topping-number-one-single moaning about him.

Dating Taylor is reminiscent of trying to balance two barrels of teenage emotions of his shoulders in the sense that any slight turbulence can upset the balance and fuck everything up. Without a doubt, she is possibly the hardest thing management have made him deal with.

When Louis leaves the warm sanctuary of their nest of blankest and pillows for a bathroom break, Harry's diving his hand into his back pocket and extracting his phone. He could feel it vibrating before and he already _knows_ who it is.

Taylor: hey Harry, getting on the plane soon. Can't wait to see you.  
11:35pm

He thumbs a quick reply that should satisfy her apparent neediness and prays that Louis never sees his phone messages.

Harry: hi tay, looking forward to it!  
11:42pm

It's vague enough, because technically, “it” could refer to anything really, he thinks before wondering how the situation got this fucked up.

He's hoping that she's on the plane and that she's unable to reply because every second more he texts her, the more he feels like he's betraying Louis.

No such luck.

Taylor: missed you x  
11:44pm

There's a split second where Harry wants to lob his phone out the window and hope it smashes into smithereens but it's overridden by rational thought. If he just sticks it out, it'll be worth it. Louis is worth it. It's the last thought revolving in his mind before he's typing out a text back and sticking his phone back in his pocket just as Louis comes back.

Harry: missed you too. We should go out for a meal after you land. Catch up and all!  
11:45pm

He feels the tremor of her reply and the hard, unforgiving metal of his phone burns a hole into his skin as he wraps his arms around Louis' slim waist.

 

∞∞∞

 

The darkness encroaches upon them like a blanket, keeping them out of sight and blocking the rest of the world from their little bubble. It's way past the time any decent human being, that's not intoxicated, should be awake and yet the room is filled with the sound of two boys whose breathing is too quick to be comatose.

Louis' double bed is too small for three people, even if Oli only really counts as a half but they still cram onto the creaky mattress, duvet stretched far to cover them all.

“I wish you could spend the day with us tomorrow. We were going to go to that fair near Camden market. Oli wanted to take you on the dodgems.” Louis says mournfully, unable to meet Harry's eyes as he strokes Oli's arm slowly. The little boy is lying between them, is spaceman pyjamas visible in the dim moonlight streaming through the gap in the curtains.

There's an uncomfortable lump in Harry's throat when he answers. “I'm so sorry, love. You know what management are like, they're really trying to milk Taylor's trip here for all it's worth. I tried to persuade them to give me the day off after seeing her in the morning but the little shits wouldn't have it.” He discretely untangles his foot from where it lay between Louis' calves, he doesn't deserve to touch something so pure and beautiful.

“That's so ridiculous.” Louis' chasing after Harry under the covers and slipping their legs together. “I can't wait 'til your contract is over.”

“I know babe.” Oli's like a mini radiator next to him but all Harry can feel is disgust. Absolute revulsion at himself as he lays down lie after lie for Louis to eat up unsuspectingly.

The tangible pause is milliseconds away from rousing suspicion before Harry's salvaging the situation with a noise of agreement. The younger boy daren't open his mouth to reply in case he slips up and the actuality of his situation slides off his tongue and past his lips without his consent.

Louis' breathing audibly starts to equilibrate, body falling slack to exhaustion and Harry hates himself for wanting Louis to fall asleep so he can escape the compromising state he's dropped himself in, even if only for a few hours.

“Can't wait.” he slurs effortlessly before his blue eyes blink closed.

Harry's releasing a lungful of air that he wasn't aware he was holding and in the dark as he shifts slightly trying to avoid jostling the bed too much, he can feel himself burning up underneath the blankets. His limbs are set heavily and his heart is racing too fast. A cold sweat near breaks out over his alabaster skin as a fire of fear and panic inches through his body and there's an icy grip on his heart, squeezing harder with every shallow breath he takes.

He can almost hear his heart breaking.

 

∞∞∞

 

It's Friday and Louis should probably be at a uni lecture but then again he should probably be going out every weekend getting shitfaced instead of looking after an infant, but hey that's life.

He's sat up on the hard, polished marble of One Direction's kitchen counter as he watches Harry icing smiley faces and rocket ships onto a batch of cooling cookies he just made.

“Lou, I refuse to believe you set fire to your kitchen making cereal. _Cereal_.” Harry says disbelievingly, his tongue poking out between his pink lips as he concentrates on the curved line of a smile.

“Not all of us were born to be like Gordon fucking Ramsay, Harold.” Louis nibbles away delicately on a broken piece of cookie and Harry's breath catches at how adorable he looks, all tan and soft with a golden halo of hair.

“But _cereal.”_ scoffs Harry as he sets down a yellow piping bag and picking up a blue one.

“Anyway! Oli's going to be so ecstatic when he sees these.” There's a crumb on Louis' bottom lip that he hasn't quite comprehended and Harry takes advantage of the opportunity and swoops in to kiss it away and swipe his tongue over the plump skin. “He should be. I mean I did make them.”

Drawing a laugh from Louis makes Harry's chest swell with pride, he awards himself bonus points when the crinkles by his eyes are enhanced and his eyes glow that bit brighter. “Wow, conceited much?”

Harry's laughing too, the eye he's tracing on a round baked treat slightly wonky as his hand shakes.

If someone told Louis that Oli was leaning out of a open window, he'd be across the room and reeling the boy back in before Oli could even breathe the fresh air but nothing could ever prepare him for the events that unfolded next as Harry finished off the last smiling face on a cookie.

The locks of the front door are heavy and in need of oiling so when the grinding metal resonates through the house, it's obvious that the two boys are no longer alone. On any other day it wouldn't have been such a problem but he knows that Niall and Liam are out of town and therefore unable to be opening the door.

The second he hears the high pitch clacking of heeled shoes against the hard wood floor of the hallway he knows he's in trouble.

Louis' jumping off the counter and looking to Harry for guidance as the footsteps draw closer.

“Harry?” the voice is so unfamiliar but familiar at the same time and although there's the impending danger of being discovered, Louis' mind is clouded with the question of why _Taylor_ has a key to Harry's house. Why would Harry give her a key?

There's not enough time for Louis to come up with a logical explanation because Harry's turning away with the tray of cookies and dumping the entire batch into the bin next to the sink and Louis' world shatters like the breaking biscuits lying pathetically at the bottom of a pile of rubbish.

When Taylor rounds the corner to the kitchen, Louis still hasn't masked his expression into anything other than distraught.

“Oh hey.” She's evidently surprised at Louis' presence and Louis feels the need to claim Harry as his but he _can't._

Taylor can, of course she can. “Hi, Haz.” she steps over daintily to press a kiss to the corner of Harry's mouth and Louis wants to vomit. “You work at the coffee shop right?”

It takes a while for Louis to acknowledge her question and he nods numbly as his eyes zone in on her petite hand clasped tightly in Harry's, who's keeping too quiet for Louis to draw any comfort from.

He's half expecting Harry to usher her out the house and to start baking a new batch of cookies but he knows it's impossible. “Hi. Yeah, urm yeah I am.”

The ticking of the clock on the wall is the only thing filling the silence and Louis swears the room drops a few degrees, well it might as well, he thinks as Taylor regards him coolly, almost as if she's challenging him.

“So, Louis was just leaving -” Harry babbles quickly, and Louis can feel his expression falling again. “ - he just came to bring me some coffee. I'll see him out, babe.” Not once does Harry meet the other boy's gaze and Louis understands now.

“No need. I'm sure I can find the door.” Louis says stoically, mustering up the most impassive face he can and attempting to regain what was left of his dignity. He frog marches to where he left his jacket and then brushes past the pair to the the hallway of the house.

He doesn't dare to look back, thinks that if he does, he'll lose his confidence and break down and he _can't._ Louis' vision is blurring as he can feel the moisture pooling in his eyes and he carries on stiffly. There's padded footsteps closing in on him from behind and he can hear a whisper yelled call of his name through cotton filled ears as his head is filled with hurt and it's like he's swimming through the sea, unable to come up for air.

Throwing open the door, the first step outside almost floors him as his knees threaten to give way but he regains himself just as fingers brush at his elbow but he tugs it forward, Harry's hand snatching only empty air.

He still doesn't turn back.

“Louis! Louis, please. Louis!” Harry's whisper yelling but Louis' not sure what the younger is pleading for.

He's halfway across the drive and half of him wants Harry to come out after him, chase after him. Louis sees it as a test of Harry's loyalty but the younger boy doesn't follow him.

Louis doesn't remember when Harry stopped tailing him, just focuses on breathing and putting one foot in front of the other. His lungs burn as his chest heaves and he can't see where he's going any more.

When he hears the door close behind him he stops.

Maybe Louis' read too many english literature books and analysed one too many different interpretations and evaluated too many metaphors, but when the door closes, it's like an unspoken finality of what had been and Louis knows now that it's done.

He sits down on the curb and buries his head in his hands and tries to patch together what's left of his fragmented heart despite half the pieces being left behind and scattered around Harry's kitchen floor.

 

∞∞∞

 

His cheeks are sore from smiling and all he wants to do is scrub the layer of make up sitting on his skin away.

Harry's got his elbow resting on Niall's shoulder and Liam's closing him in on his other side as the photographer snaps picture after picture, bright glare of the side lighting assaulting his retina as he blinks quickly.

He's not sure how long they stay under the scrutiny of the photographer and his camera, only coming back to the world when, “That's a wrap” is called.

The three of them move as a single entity towards their dressing rooms but then Harry's being called and he almost wants to turn around and throw a strop on the floor because he's so _done_ with today.

“Harry. We need you to stay on set. Taylor's getting ready for your joint shoot.”

He watches haplessly as Liam and Niall are ushered away to freedom, sending him sympathetic smiles that are utterly useless.

When Taylor walks in, even Harry has to admit, she looks gorgeous. Her hair falls softly, framing her face and she's wearing a cream, floaty dress but it's her eyes that hold the most beauty. They're warm and shining with affection that Harry can't return and he hates how happy she is whilst he has to deal with this permanent blanket of misery that's wrapped itself heavily and firmly around his shoulders.

It's only been a few days since she walked in on them and ever since then there's been a dull ache set in his bones and it throbs, flaring up when Taylor approaches him like a hurricane intent on only destruction.

Her hands are on his hips but they're too small.

The floral perfume permeating from her skin is too feminine.

She's leaning forwards to nuzzle against his cheek and she's too tall.

When he's told to look into her eyes, they're the wrong shade of blue.

It's nearly an hour later when he's finally allowed to leave and he stumbles into the nearest bathroom before retching violently.

As he curls up alone under the covers of his bed that night, he turns his phone off silent and places it on his night stand, determined to make things right.

It's 57 missed calls and 48 texts later and still no word from Louis.

That all changes however when he's sitting in the lobby of a radio station and his phone buzzes, the screen lighting up with seven important words.

_I can't be what you want anymore._

And then he's running out of the revolving doors, Paul shouting out his name behind him becoming a distant echo as he hails a taxi and directs it to an address he knows better than his own.

Harry's out of breath and most probably red faced when he pounds his fist on Louis' door.

He can hear an excited squeal through the wood and then it's being opened slightly, a slither of the boy he's missed so much appearing in the crack, Oli peeking out from behind his hip.

“Uncle Harry! Uncle Harry! You haven't seen us in ages and -” Oli begins happily before Louis' intervening. “Oli, go back inside now please. Harry and I need to have a grown up talk.”

The little boy pouts as he obeys his father, sending Harry a tentative smile before he leaves which Harry returns only to be met with stormy blue eyes that hold nothing but distrust and hostility.

“Why are you here.” It sounds more like a statement than a question in Harry's ears and he'd hoped that Louis would be more understanding but then again, the older boy has good reason not to be.

“We need to talk.” His voice is strong and so unlike his inner turmoil and he can't help but think that this is not the first time they've been in this compromising situation.

“There's nothing to say. I can't be your secret anymore.” Louis' voice has dropped like he's ashamed and Harry physically hurts. “No! Louis you're wrong -”

“No Harry. I won't be your little fuck on the side as you cower behind a false relationship with _her_ because the press won't be able to handle your sexuality.” he says avoiding Harry's gaze.

He's got one of Harry's shirts hanging off his small frame and his fringe in matted and unwashed, dark circles painting the space beneath his eyes. And it's all Harry's fault.

“That's not true. It's not.” Harry speaks slowly, and it almost sounds like he's trying to convince himself and Louis picks up on it. “See, you know it is. You just can't admit it.”

Harry's propelling himself towards Louis, hands clasping tight around the shorter boy's shoulders in an unwavering grip as Louis flinches back and Harry _hates_ that. “No Louis. You mean so much to me. So _fucking_ much. I wish I could show you but I can't and i'm _sorry_.”

Louis begins to deflect the comments but Harry's already speaking and he'd be damned if he lets Louis cut him off without saying what he needs to say. “I'm so sorry. You _know_ she means nothing to me, I just couldn't let her get suspicious otherwise she'd say something to management. I didn't mean to throw you out my house, I swear Lou, I swear to god. I'm so sorry, it'll be over soon, I promise.” and Harry's lying through his teeth, again.

The other boy is staring at him oddly and Harry realises why when he feels dampness on his cheeks and a tingling sensation in his nose, but Louis still doesn't say anything.

“Louis, c'mon, please. Tell me what I've got to do, cause i'll do it. You know I will.”

“L-leave her.”

“But. I. You know I can't.” Harry stutters because it's so fucking _unfair._

“You said you'd do anything. Go on then, leave her.” Louis knows he's being a tad unreasonable but there's no other way around it.

“I can't. Anything but that.” He's tugging harshly at his curls because he already knows now that it's a lost cause. Can already feel his body giving into despair.

“Well then I guess there's nothing else to say” Louis affirms as he steps back to close the door but Harry's quicker and not about to let him go this time and he jams his foot into the gap preventing the door from closing in his face.

“No! Louis, c'mon please.”

“Harry there's nothing else to say. If you want to fix this then you have to pick. Me or her.”

“But you know I pick you. I pick you a thousand times over -” Harry speaks quickly trying to force his words out rapidly in fear of Louis managing to succeed in closing the door on him, palms pushing flat against the door.

“No. It's _her_ or _me._ ” and Harry gets it. The most unforgiving ultimatum he's ever heard and he's left fish mouthing as Louis waits for a response.

Louis doesn't get one.

Harry gets the hard wood door slammed in his face.


	9. Relocate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's hard having to be with someone else when the right one comes along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to everyone for all your lovely comments and feedback :)

It's been eleven gruelling days and sixteen long hours since Louis quite literally shut Harry out of his life.

And five days since Louis and Zayn received a final eviction letter.

Then of course thirty five minutes since Harry's last text to Louis, a grovelling apology woven with unbidden promises and sycophantic declarations.

Louis pointedly focuses on labelling the last of his and Oli's boxes that need to be taken down to the delivery van and not the heavy weight of his phone in his jeans pocket.

It turns out that a miscommunication between Zayn, Louis and their landlord resorted in both uni students thinking the other had paid the previous month's rent and an empty handed, less than happy, landlord. It's enough for them to be kicked out apparently, well not that it was really a shock to either boys as it wasn't the first time it had happened. 

Luckily for them, Zayn's parents own a London house which they've been coerced into moving in to and it's close to their uni and Oli's school but it's just not home. Call him sentimental but Louis' grown fond of their dingy apartment with the bathroom door you have to slam to close properly and the tiny hand printed blue stain on the hallway wall where Oli had smeared Zayn's poster paint. 

The walls which have seen Oli take his first steps and form his first words and it's full of firsts that Louis isn't quite ready to let go of.

The coffee shop gave him a couple select days off work to make the transition as smooth as possible but Louis knows the following weeks are going to be full of misdirection and uncomfortable house warmings as he struggles to settle into his new surroundings.

He's hoisting the last box down stairs to a waiting Zayn when he hears Oli crying out; loud, broken gasps and scrunched up, damp eyes from where he sits in his car seat in the front of the van.

“Baby boy, it's alright. Daddy's here. Shhh now,” he assuages as he coaxes the sobbing child into his arms and rocks him back and forth.

And that's the second reason why they're staying with Mr and Mrs Malik and not relocating to another student accommodation.

Since his birth, Oli had always been hypersensitive to illness, catching colds and coughs every few weeks. The doctors had pegged it on to a weak immune system coupled with severe asthma and that he'd grow out of it, and Louis had left it as that. Well, until a few days ago when his common cold turned into an intense asthma attack that had Louis' heart racing in panic and a shaky Oli gasping for breath. Followed by an unnaturally high fever and near constant shivering, Louis had taken him to A&E to wait two hours only for doctors to diagnose Oli with acute pneumonia much to Louis' distress.

The doctor had deemed it not serious enough to be life threatening and had let the father and son go home with strict instructions and a prescription for a fuck load of rest. Not ideal when they were moving homes and their life in general had been tipped upside down. 

“D-daddy, my ch-chest hurts,” the toddler snivels through his tears, hands grabbing onto Louis' shirt for dear life as his heart constricts at his son's words.

“It's alright, love. I'm going to get your medicine and it won't hurt anymore, kay?” Louis reassures him, kissing Oli's forehead tenderly and stroking his chubby little fist.

Oli doesn't have the strength to reply, too preoccupied with battling the fiery pain in his chest, and just nods into Louis' tear stained shirt.

“Zayn? Can you pass me Oli's antibiotics please?” and Oli's shaking now from the pain and Louis sort of wants to cry too.

When Zayn turns around, he's red faced and leaning heavily against the removal van because Zayn Malik was most certainly not made for heavy lifting. “But it was in the fridge?”

“Ah fucking hell,” Louis doesn't care that he's using child inappropriate language, only cares enough to glare violently at the sky in frustration because all the food in their fridge had to be thrown away as it wouldn't last the duration of the move and fucking hell, Oli's medication had gone into the black plastic bin liner along with all their other food. 

“You want me to run to the chemist and-”

“No. I'll go.” Louis' being abrupt, he knows and he'll apologise later but right now all he wants is for Oli to feel better. “You stay here and triple check everything. Make sure there's nothing left up in the flat. We'll be back in a few.”

He knows he's being rude but he accepts his friend's shoulder clap and departing words of “See you in a bit” and hopes it diffuses his hostility.

The chemists is literally a five minute walk from them and by the time the pair arrive at the glass automatic sliding doors, Louis is panting and struggling to maintain a hold of Oli because he's seriously too big to be carried around like a baby.

“Da-daddy?” Oli queries, voice rough from coughing and little button nose red, as he looks up at Louis.

“It's okay baby, it's okay. Daddy's getting your medicine now. You're going to be fine, love.” Louis' cradling the boy's head in his palm and holding him even closer whilst trying to act like his already torn up heart isn't cracking all over again from second hand pain of seeing Oli so distraught. He fucking hates how useless he feels.

The line of people queuing shifts slightly as he waits at the side for the lady to bring Oli's prescription when suddenly he simultaneously wants to either run the fuck home and hide or for the ground to swallow him up. 

Because it's not like Harry has just joined the queue. Nope. It's not like he's just joined the queue, noticed Louis and is moving towards him.

“Louis.” Harry in all his six foot something glory and messy bed hair and Louis' ready to brick it out of there but Harry's getting closer.

The pop star stops a few feet away from the family and Louis feels like a caged tiger trying to protect its cub from imminent danger. He tightens his grip on Oli as he darts his gaze around, searching for a beeline out of there but there's a Harry shaped object standing between him and the nearest exit.

“Louis.” Harry repeats again, his injured voice fogging up Louis' clarity as he takes in the younger' appearance. It's bleak. Harry's dressed to the nines, smart skinny jeans with a button up white shirt and brown suede shoes – the same ones he spilt coffee all over on their first encounter, Louis notes – but no matter how aesthetically pleasing, it doesn't distract from the darks shadows beneath his eyes or the blotchy shade of his cheeks.

Louis' saved from answering by the lady calling out a “Mr Tomlinson” and passing him a white paper bag containing Oli's meds but what he doesn't expect is for Oli to reach both his tiny little arms out to Harry, gesturing to be carried.

“Uncle Harry,” he coughs out and Louis has to all but wrestle his arms down, tries to ignore the utter distraught expression that crosses Harry's features at Louis' actions. There's no real way to tell your son that his father's boyfriend wouldn't be around any and Louis had just settled for explaining to Oli that Harry was too busy to visit them. Call it a half assed explanation but Louis' not sure how Oli would take it if he told him that Harry had buggered off with a famous singer and couldn't sort out his priorities.

“Oli! You alright, bud?” Harry forces out, trying for a reassuring smile but resulting in more of a grimace. Louis' glaring daggers at him and Oli looks so ill that it breaks his heart.

“Uncle Harry, I have a new-mo-tia. It's not very nice.” Oli's whimpering as he curls back into his father's chest.

It takes a while for Harry to register what the poorly little boy means but when it clicks, he's reaching forward to hold Oli's hand, body functioning without his brain's approval. “Aw baby, get well soon.” he manages to choke out when Louis draws back even further and Oli travels out of range.

“C'mon Oli, we should be off now.” and Louis' looking everywhere but straight ahead at those sorrowful green irises. He moves to dodge out of the way but Harry's quicker and blocks him again.

“Wait. Louis. I think we need to talk.” Harry urges, hands darting forward again but he retracts them before making contact because people are turning to watch their little interaction and he doesn't need to be caught on camera making hands at a single father.

Louis notices the extra attention and buries Oli's face closer into his collar bone, hand hiding his face. “Nah 'm good thanks.” He tries to move to escape again and this time he's successful, yet not without loss as his arm brushes against Harry's and there's a searing sensation of flames licking up his elbow from the contact.

He sidesteps the revolving doors and when his converse hit the pavement, he's speed walking back to where the removal van and Zayn are waiting.

“Daddy, Uncle Harry's following us.” Oli sniffs into his ear as the toddler peeks over his shoulder. Louis turns slightly to glance at his reflection in a passing car and sure enough, the pigeon toed boy is pacing down the street after them, unruly hair flying in every direction as he attempts to regain control of his flailing limbs.

Louis resists the urge to roll his eyes, definitely not in affection at Harry's comical actions.

“LOUIS, WAIT UP. PLEASE.” 

Louis speeds up, his short legs beginning to feel the burn and he mentally promises himself to actually go to the gym he has a membership for. He can see his building and it's only a couple turns away, thinks that he can make it – until a hand falls on his shoulder and practically rips his joint out of place as he's turned violently around.

He stumbles, foot catching a pothole and there's a millisecond where blind panic turns his vision black and he's angling his body so that he takes the brunt of the impact instead of Oli but then there's large, gentle hands gripping him in all the right places and catching his fall.

It's a very stereotypical hollywood film pose as Louis leans back in the circle of Harry's arms, Oli tucked away in between them.

“Oh god, I'm so fucking- oh sh- no. I'm sorry. So sorry, I didn't mean to knock you over, I just wanted you to stop but you kept going and you walk pretty quick and I had to catch you up but I didn't mean to hurt you and i'm sorry.” Harry rambles as Louis forces his way out of Harry's octopus arms and tries to compose himself. So much for a get away, he thinks.

“What do you want?” Louis asks, fingers checking that Oli's unharmed.

“I want to talk. I need to talk. To you. That is.” there's a look on Harry's face when he's finished talking and Louis thinks it resembles a kicked puppy. Of like if someone kicked a puppy right in front of him. Regardless, Louis has trouble actually focusing on what he's saying.

“Harry, I have nothing to say to you. It's not working, okay. It never worked. You and me just _don't go_. You already made your choice so I don't know what you expect to gain from chasing after me.” every word Louis spits out is like a pinprick to his skin, each digging further than the last until all he can feel is an intense stinging all over his body that not even an industrial amount of novocain could numb.

Harry looks crestfallen at the end of his speech, impossibly rosy lips pulled down at the corners as his eyes widen and brows furrow. There's a sadistic part of Louis that thinks _serves you right_ and _see how it feels?_ Because that hurt that he's been carrying around on his shoulders, that's settled deep into his heart, is unbearable. The type that you can only understand when you experience it yourself and he's maybe convinced that Harry even deserves it. Deserves to feel the pain of being messed around by someone you trusted and led on.

He turns and carries on walking leaving no room for goodbye because no, Harry doesn't even deserve that.

Louis doesn't count on Harry following him all the way back. Didn't expect the fury of his words that ghost his ears on the journey to his vacated apartment, the passionate intensity of his apologies and persuasive tones begging for a chance to explain and for one last chance. One last chance too many, Louis thinks.

Oli's fallen asleep, exhaustion over weighing his need for medicine and he lies limp on Louis' chest, hand loosely curled around his dad's neck.

When Zayn comes into sight there's a relieved smile on his face but as he spies Harry turning the corner behind Louis, it's replaced by a snarl as his lip curls upwards in distaste.

“Zayn, is everything ready? Did you triple check the flat? Are we ready to go?” as Louis approaches, he kicks into father mode and the adult inside is unleashed as he takes on the responsibility that comes with being the eldest. 

Louis' strapping Oli into his baby seat up front of the van, back turned as Zayn eyes Harry who's stepping hesitantly over to them. “What's this little shit doing here Lou?”

“Dunno. Ran into him at the chemist and he followed me back.” Louis mutters darkly, turning round to watch the exchange.

“Urm, hey guys.” Harry gives a nervous wave before stopping in front of them. He risks a smile at Zayn. It's not returned. Instead, Zayn swings at Harry, palm enclosed into a fist and Louis gapes at the sound of skin smacking bone. Blood shoots like a fountain from Harry's nose, streaming little red rivers down his face as it glistens with newly formed tears. He's hunched over, one large hand braced on a knobbly knee as the other scrunches against his nose. He moans like a wounded animal that's been fatally shot and Louis' at a loss of what to do.

“You little fucker. You have the nerve to say hi? To even show up here? What the fuck are you playing at, mate?” Zayn's tirade is venomous as he rains his words down on Harry, forcing out the term of endearment at the end so ironically, that Louis wants to laugh and sob at the same time. But he can't. His body hasn't, can't respond because there's so much conflict racking through him. He wants to revel in Harry's discomfort and pain, but Louis isn't a violent person. He knows he's not and he doesn't take pleasure from seeing _anyone_ in physical pain, regardless of who they are.

Harry's silent. Takes his assault lying down, metaphorically speaking, and hangs his head in shame. It's pitiful and it makes Louis' heart stop and shatter in one breath. 

The possibility of paparazzi or fans doesn't cross Harry's mind once. He fucking wants them to see. Wants them to see what his management have done. Wants them to see the result of a poorly made decision on his behalf. Wants to feel the embarrassment and torture because it's only fair. Hurting Louis was never, ever part of his plan and he'll take all the judgement and resentment of the media if it means showing Louis that he _knows_ he made a mistake and that he's so fucking _sorry_.

“Louis has a kid. You know that? I'm pretty sure that kid adores you. Did you even think about Oli? Did they never even cross your mind when you kissed _her_? When you pranced around as her _boyfriend_? No, because you don't fucking think do you?” Zayn goes for a kick to his balls when Louis finds it in him to intervene.

“Zayn stop, stop it.” Louis' racing forward and pulling Zayn back. He might be small but carrying Oli around for four years has built up his muscles and he's finally putting it to good use.

“Louis, let me go! I warned him, I fucking warned him not to mess with you again.” Zayn's throwing caution to the wind and trying to wrestle his way out of Louis' hold. It's a side of the younger boy that Louis' only ever seen once, that time back in sixth form where the football team had heckled Louis for knocking a girl up and Zayn had sent them all to the emergency room in return. In all honestly, Louis' not sure how to handle the raging boy. 

“Zayn, calm down. Calm down, love.” Louis has is arms locked around Zayn and he'll be damned if the skinny boy can wiggle his way free.

“No I'm not fucking calming down. He hurt you, Lou! He hurt you and Oli.” Zayn's quiff has dropped and flops across his forehead with each shake and twist of his body.

“Yeah but it doesn't give you validation to beat the shit out of him. Just calm down, okay?” 

Zayn doesn't go down without a final murderous glare at Harry. He bowls out and turns to watch over Oli who has somehow miraculously slept through everything.

Louis crouches down before Harry, hand hovering over his shoulder, cheek and arm, unsure of whether touching him is a good idea or not and it's weird because the two of them have never been hesitant about contact before and it's unnerving. A rock settles in Louis' stomach because he's never been in this kind of situation and he has no clue how to react.

His palm finds Harry's shoulder and he pushes away the spark that runs down to his fingertips.

“Harry? You alright?” he wants to apologise for Zayn's behaviour but he bites his tongue and swallows his unspoken words.

Harry makes a confirming sound from the back of his throat, nose still bleed profusely and buried in his hand as he manages to look up to Louis.

“Do you need me to call an ambulance?” Louis asks tentatively because there's so much blood and Harry's face has started to swell. 

Harry shakes his head slightly and then spits out a mouthful of blood to the side. Louis feels queasy. He pulls back his hand from it's perch on Harry's shoulder when he realises he's been stroking the soft skin by Harry's neck with his thumb. It's worrying how natural and easy it is being around Harry. The younger boy's like a magnet, or a planet. Drawing anything and everything into its orbit.

“What can I do?”

“Take me home? Please?” Harry says with a slight gargle and Louis' too alarmed to speak, instead nodding senselessly.

He helps Harry to his feet, pulls the taller boy's free arm around his shoulders and helps him step into the back of the van. 

“Sorry about the, erm van. There's not enough space up front.” Louis admits sheepishly, setting Harry down on a cardboard box labelled _txt books ew._

“S'okay,” Harry's voice has turned nasally and Louis' rushing off to alert Zayn of the change of route because he can't stand to look at the broken boy any longer.

When the van's trundling along slowly, Louis' rummaging through some of Oli's boxes and finds a small towel and hands it to Harry. He most definitely does not shiver when their fingers graze together.

“Thank you.” 

Louis watches as Harry dabs gently at his nose and eyes, towel soon turning crimson to match Harry's shirt. The splotches stand out vivid on the white tshirt but Harry doesn't seem to care. He can see Zayn glancing back at them in the rear view mirror every now and again, brown eyes darting around swiftly.

“So what's with the boxes? Are you moving? If you don't mind me asking.” asks Harry, gentle as ever. He's resigned to just holding the towel against his face and his soft emerald eyes blink slowly as they peek out from the fabric.

“Yeah we are and I don't mind.” Louis' answer is short and clipped because he's still so mad at Harry and a bloody nose isn't going to change anything.

He can see Harry's Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. “Is it. Is it because of. Because of me?” Harry looks even more upset, body crumpled and curls flat against his head. If Louis answers yes, Harry might just throw himself out of the moving van.

“No, no. We were evicted. Not everyone's rich like you popstars, eh?” Louis chuckles and he doesn't refrain from the bitterness tingeing his tone. 

Harry doesn't reply and Louis takes it as his cue to shut up.

There's nothing more than stagnant tension between them and it's ripping at Louis' insides and turning his brain to mush. He wants to rewind to a time before he met Harry. He wonders if he could go back to all those months ago to that fateful day when he met Harry at work and whether his life would be better off if he'd never met the boy. But with every wound that's been created in his delicate flesh, there Harry's been to kiss it better. Every bad memory is shadowed by a good one. The amazing times that have been imprinted into his mind forever, that he clings tightly to on the nights he feels especially alone.

“I'm so sorry, Louis. For everything.”

Louis doesn't say anything, just shuts his eyes.

 

∞∞∞

 

Harry knows that Liam gets violent when he's angry. 

But when the six of them are standing in the hallway of their house, well five as Oli's still asleep in Louis' nurturing arms as the father had been reluctant to leave the slumbering boy alone in the van, Liam looks the furthest thing from violent.

Louis' stood strategically between Harry and Zayn and Niall's got an arm around Harry, keeping him upright. Liam levels Harry with a stare and the younger knows what's coming.

“You deserved it, you idiot.” Liam's got this calm demeanor, Louis thinks, but underneath is the strongest urge to protect and care. It's why as soon as he's finished berating One Direction's youngest member, Liam's ushering Harry into the kitchen to see to his nose.

Niall lingers a while, exchanges some words with Zayn that Louis doesn't hear because Oli's beginning to stir.

His hair is all mussed into a messy brunette halo around his head and he's burning up against Louis, he can feel it through the layers of his clothing like a mini radiator. 

“Daddy?” Oli's tiny fists rub at his eyes as he wriggles in Louis' hold.

“Yeah, baby?” Louis catches one of Oli's small hands and presses a kiss to the tiny palm. “You feeling okay?”

There's a flurry of movement as Oli shakes his head vigorously and then his round blue eyes are watering, bottom lip stuck out as it trembles. “Da-daddy, my throat real-really hu-rts.” he wails between sniffles, fists clenched tightly.

“Okay, love, c'mon let's get some medicine in you. It'll be alright, baby boy,” Louis soothes as he reflexively heads for the kitchen, leaving Niall and Zayn behind. When he steps inside, he's hit with nostalgia, mind returning to the last time he was there. When Taylor decided to turn up. When Harry decided to kick him out.

Harry's sat on a bar stool, bag of frozen peas covering his face as Liam fawns over him. They both stop and turn at Louis' arrival.

“Need something, Lou?” Liam asks, not unkindly, antiseptic spray in hand.

“Just some water. For Oli. And a spoon, please.” Louis clutches the bag of medicine in his sweaty hand and waves it, offers it as an explanation.

Harry moves instantaneously to help Louis out but he's pushed down like a tidal wave by Liam who collects a spoon and glass of water for Louis before bringing them over to the island.

Louis sets Oli down on the marble and dries his cheeks with shaky fingers as Harry and Liam watch on.

“What're the meds for?” comes Harry's muffled question as Louis spoons Oli some antibiotics and aids the boy with the heavy glass.

“He developed pneumonia a few days ago.” Louis says, pulling his sick little boy into his chest and rubbing his back soothingly.

“Oh, that's awful. I'm sorry.” Louis nods in reply at Liam. “Harry says you guys are moving? How come?”

“Evicted. Didn't make the rent.”

“Well, if you're looking for a place to stay, you're welcome here. I know the boys and myself won't mind. We've got two spare rooms free, if you're up for it?” and of course Liam would offer because that boy is literally the kindest person Louis has had the privilege of meeting.

“Thanks for the offer but Zayn's parents are -” Louis begins as Niall enters the room, closely followed by Zayn.

“Actually Lou, we might have to take Liam up on his offer.” Zayn interrupts sheepishly.

“What?”

“Mum called when you were out earlier and said that Waliyha and Safaa have been at each other's throats again. The house might be a bit hostile for Oli, 'specially when he's ill.”

Louis kind of feels betrayed and it must show as he feels his cheeks heat up. Maybe not betrayed, more like ganged up on. “But what about you and....” he trails off ominously, eyes drifting over to where Harry's sat, peeking out from the bag of frozen veg obstructing his face.

“There won't be a problem if he keeps to himself.” Zayn's voice turns steely and Louis can see Liam frown and Harry shrink into himself a little. It's all laughable, it really is. Zayn is usually so non threatening or scary and yet Harry, who's nearly a whole foot taller, is cowering from him. What has the world come to, Louis questions.

He doesn't really have much choice in the matter since Zayn's sisters have deemed their London home and Louis' potential new living space not applicable for staying in, and unless he wants to cotch on the streets for the next few weeks there really isn't anywhere else to go.

Harry's got these huge doe eyes aimed at him and Louis doesn't have to be a fortune teller to know what's coming. The cogs have already sprung into motion and are twisting a new path for his future because even though he hasn't agreed to Liam's kind invitation, deep down he's already accepted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not beta'd so if you spot anything amiss, please let me know!  
> thanks for reading x


	10. Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's hard having to be with someone else when the right one comes along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have not forgotten about this!  
> I'm so sorry about the super lateness of this, i've had a really busy past few weeks with applications and things and i literally could not find the motivation to update this D:  
> But i forced myself to write and here it is; chapter 10!  
> I hope you guys are still interested and please let me know what you think. Your comments and kudos mean so much to me, thank you so much.  
> Hope you enjoy!

 

Something Louis has learnt about One Direction is that they go through food quicker than a family of twelve. Well Niall does anyway. 

He's lost count of the amount of times he's walked into the kitchen to find the blonde boy with his head in the fridge or a bag of take out on the table. It baffles Louis as to how the Irish boy stays so skinny because not even a rocket high metabolism can compensate for how much food passes through Niall's lips.

Not two days after Zayn and Louis had moved into the One Direction “bachelor pad” as Niall liked to brand it, Oli's already been spoilt with a vast variety of sweets and toys which definitely aren't helping his pneumonia.

Zayn and Louis had commandeered the two spare rooms, Oli bunking with Louis, and it's nice because Liam's actually wonderful with his little boy and Louis doesn't have to worry about child proofing the house since it has already been covered as Harry's about as accident prone as a baby lamb and they apparently needed a way to keep Niall from going at the cupboards and the fridge. Although, the latter wasn't really effective in Louis' opinion.

Louis' managed to successfully evade any awkward conversations with Harry since staying under the same roof as the other boy, only willingly being in his presence at dinner time when all of them sit in the living room and watch old re-runs of The Fresh Prince of Bel Air.

Well that is until now. Oli and Louis have got the Lion King on and are curled up on the couch draped in blankets when Harry joins them. He sits on the arm rest, and when Oli lifts the blanket up, Harry takes it as an invitation and slides up along next to him, much to Louis' vexation.

On screen Mufasa has just saved Simba and Nala from a hyena attack when Harry speaks up.

“I like the hyenas, they make me laugh because they're so goofy.” Louis rolls his eyes because it's such a _Harry_ thing to say.

“No, I think they're just cowards.” and ouch, that one hurts. Harry visibly flinches and Louis' glad he's taken it personally. No amount of Disney films is enough to quell the anger he harbours for the younger boy and he's not afraid to make it known.

Harry slowly lifts his head to meet Louis' eyes. “But I bet they feel remorse. If I was a hyena i'd be so, so sorry.”

Louis returns the gaze and replies unwaveringly, “You shouldn't have to be a hyena to feel sorry.” and after he's said it, he realises that it doesn't make as much sense as it did in his head and he might possibly have confused himself.

Oli breaks the tension by scrambling off the sofa to use the toilet and Louis' just about to make up some story about needing to go as well when he feels Harry gripping his bicep tightly. “No. You keep doing this.”

“Doing what?” Louis feigns indifference and tries to tug his arm away without punching himself in the face.

“This. You keep running away. Who's the coward now?” there's steel determination set in Harry's features and in all the time Louis' known him, he's never seen Harry like this before.

“Don't you fucking dare call me a coward. You were the one who didn't have the balls to stand up to your own management. Didn't have the guts to give me your whole heart when I practically handed you mine on a silver platter.” Louis spits, eyes narrowed into slits and a sneer on his lips.

“But I did! I gave you everything I had.” and Harry's begging now. Gone is the angry façade and now he's just desperate. So fucking desperate because there's nothing else he can be.

“No you didn't. How can you say that when you spent more time with _her_ than with me? You didn't mind having her hanging off your arm like you were actually trying to convince people that you're straight but you couldn't even walk to the corner shop holding my hand. Doesn't actually sound like you wanted me at all.” Louis can't keep the self deprecating line to himself and it hangs heavy in the air as he catches his breath.

The room suddenly seems so much bigger and Louis' scared that he's finally done it. Finally pushed Harry too far, to the point of no return. He's always held on to that slight inkling of hope that Harry would keep perusing him in an attempt for redemption but now he's afraid that Harry's no longer interested in achieving atonement and it genuinely fucking terrifies him; almost to the point of forgiveness.

But even now, as he stares straight into the other's empty eyes, Louis can tell it's already too late and whatever spark or flame Harry held for him now has been extinguished, never to burn again.

“If you think for a second that I never loved you, then maybe you didn't deserve everything I ever gave and did for you.” Harry responds eerily calm as he unfolds himself from the tangle of blankets and whirling out of the room as quickly as he entered Louis' life, leaving him possibly even lonelier than before.

Louis is vaguely aware of the swishing noise of the toilet flushing in the distance over the sound of his heart breaking.

 

∞∞∞

 

The knocking at his door is like an incessant fly, weaving in and out of swatting range, building up his frustration.

There's two things Harry can do; continue to lie uselessly on his bed and count the intricate swirls of plaster on his ceiling or get up and answer the door. He doesn't get to do either as Liam gives up knocking and barges into the room bringing a waft of cool, crisp air with him that raises the hairs on the back of his arms.

“What did you say to him?”

It's such a typical line from Liam, to immediately assume that he's done something wrong and Harry tries not to be offended as he lets his eyes slip closed even though he can physically feel the holes his best friend is boring into his skull from the intensity of his glare.

Harry goes for innocent. “What makes you think i've said anything to him?” The fact that they've skipped over names and jumped straight into pronouns probably dictates the fact that he's just unwillingly admitted to saying something as there's that mutual understanding of who exactly _him_ is without anyone actually clarifying.

“Maybe it's the fact that he's left Oli with Niall and is crying in his room?” That's definitely not what he was expecting and Harry doesn't have to look at Liam to know that he's got a sly yet disappointed look on his face to match his tone.

“What do you mean?” Harry scoots over on the bed spread and pats the empty space to which Liam rolls his eyes fondly before clambering onto the bed next to him. “I mean that Louis' locked himself in his room and I can hear him sobbing from across the hall.”

Liam watches the younger blink owlishly in concentration and imagines that if Harry had animal ears, they'd be perking up right now. “I wouldn't bother. His room is right down the corridor.”

“Did he say anything to you?” says Harry quietly, fingers finding a lose thread in the blanket and toying with it aimlessly. He sort of regrets his parting words to Louis but there's only so many times he can apologise and there's not really a variety of ways to express his gut wrenching guilt that he hasn't already tried. Well, that's what he convinces himself because no matter what fucked up shit he did to Louis – of which he _is_ infinitely sorry for – he still loved him, and the fact that Louis had the nerve to wrongly call him out for it was not dissimilar to having a knife jabbed in his back and twisted over and over again.

“No but he didn't need to. Come on Harry, i'm supposed to be your best mate and I literally have no clue as to what the hell you guys are even arguing about. Like, so he gave you an ultimatum and you chose your career, he should understand that. What the hell did you do to rile him up now though? I thought you were starting to get along the other day when Zayn punched you?” Liam looks so confused, head cocked to the side like a lost puppy and Harry feels a stab of shame in his gut for keeping him so in the dark.

He's not sure where to start so he goes for from the beginning, works his way through the blooming of their relationship, stumbles slightly over the secret-but-now-not-so-secret meeting he had with management a few weeks ago – to which Liam lands a crushing bruise on Harry's arm, right over his boat tattoo, for keeping it from him – and smooths over the turbulent events that inevitably followed, bringing him right up to the little run in Harry just had in the living room.

Harry can see in Liam's eyes how the older boy is processing all the information and he prays that he's understanding because he doesn't really feel like a second round of confrontation, even if it's with his band mate.

“You're an absolute shit, you know that.” is what Liam says after tense moments of silent deliberation. His newly shaven head is reflecting the light raining in from the window and Harry focuses on that instead of what he's actually saying.

“Harry, fucking hell, you're the biggest wanker I know.” Liam continues because he knows that despite acting ignorant, Harry's absorbing his words like a human sponge.

“You're _such_ an idiot -”

“Alright, I get it. I'm scum of the Earth. But I did it for you guys, like, it's what was best for the group.” Harry finally pipes up after being provoked.

“No, Haz, what was best for the group was if you'd actually told us that management had given you a choice about the Taylor contract so we could've talked you into actually picking the right option.” says Liam exasperatedly, face palming himself because there's only so many stupid things Harry can do in a day that Liam can deal with and hearing all this is fucking overwhelming.

“But I did pick the right option-” Harry tries as he pulls Liam's hand away from his face to gauge his friend's reaction.

“No you didn't. Not at all. You think making yourself miserable was the right thing to do? You think lying to Louis was the right thing to do? You think screwing with his head was the right thing to do? Cause I sure as hell don't.”

“We would've lost fans if they knew about Louis and then the press would've had a fucking field day about the whole 'womaniser' thing.” Harry bites back, careful to keep his voice down.

Liam should be beatified as the Saint of Reason because with every word, he's succeeding in making Harry feel even smaller. “Is this what you're going to do then? Hide your sexuality at the expense of your happiness and any third parties involved? If our fans decided they didn't like us because you're into the same genitals as your own gender, then they obviously weren't great fans in the first place.” It's funny that after all this time, no matter how many tits get pressed against their car windows in Sweden, Liam still can't say the D word. “And you really think the press would make you out as a 'womaniser' if they knew you'd been seeing the same guy since last year, the guy who I might also add is a single dad? Fucking think, Harry.”

In all honestly, Harry's not quite too sure where he'd be without Liam's guiding yet slightly condescending advice and he knows he's fighting a losing battle when he receives Liam's infamous _am-i-right-or-am-i-right_ look which has him mumbling a reluctant “sorry.”

“Well now _that_ mother of all crisis' has been explained and you've been sufficiently reprimanded, what are you going to do to fix it?”

“What do you mean what am I going to do?” Harry's all but convinced himself that it's all a lost cause and he's very nearly ready to throw himself off the tallest building he can find. Or something less dramatic.

Liam looks like he's about to throttle Harry, eyebrow twitching as he composes himself. “Step one, admit you fucked up. Step one, achieved. Step two, unfucking up what you fucked up. Step two, incomplete. You get where i'm going with this? Please say you do or may the lord help me.”

Harry very nearly cracks a smile because he finally feels like he's got his best friend back, even though he's been mentally and emotionally drained from their half hour chat. “Liam, I don't think I _can_ sort this mess out.”

The bed springs creak as the elder heaves himself off the mattress and Harry momentarily panics but then there's a piece of ripped out notepad paper and a chewed biro – which Harry is definitely _not_ responsible for – being slapped in front of him.

“You're going to make list.”

Harry's had a tough day already and the ominous command is grating on his nerves but Liam's already one step ahead of him writing the words _Taylor_ and then _Louis_ on either side of the page and dividing it with a less than straight line down the middle.

For the next hour they bicker and occasionally jot things down, Liam having to pry the information from Harry as they make a pros and cons list that grows and grows until they give up and Harry ends up verbally assaulting Liam with reason as to why Taylor is the reason he's on his way to a mid life crisis.

In the end, Louis' pro list wins by an inevitable landslide and Harry's learnt nothing new.

He feels ludicrously stupid because it's taken weeks of miserable toleration of Taylor and too many shouting matches with Louis and a rebuking from Liam for it to finally sink in that he's a lovesick fool who's made the wrong decision at every chance he got. And that Louis is what he wants most in the world.

They're spread eagle on the bed next to each other, voices shot from whisper shouting and thoroughly exhausted. Harry never knew how draining it could be when one actually tries to take control of their own lives. Liam leaves muttering about checking up on Zayn and Harry ends up tucking the paper into the back pocket of his jeans as he shimmies off the bed to make dinner because god knows that there won't be a house left standing tomorrow if Niall's let anywhere near the stove.

 

∞∞∞

 

The following day, Harry's stumbling through the front door and dragging his worn body across the hall with full intent to somehow make it up the stairs and burrow under the blankets of his bed to sleep for the next century or so because photo shoots and press conferences will never not be fatiguing. Niall had let someone drag him onto a plane bound for Ireland to visit his family for a few days and Liam, good old Liam. Harry had no problem throwing Liam under the metaphorical bus or in other words, let him take one for the team in the form of an evening of radio interviews.

Harry's so close to his room and sweet, sweet victory when there's the sound of pounding footsteps and banging doors echoing in the corridor.

His first thought is that there's a burglar in his house come to steal all his valuables or that there's an overzealous fan come to seek him out and his only instinct is to fight or flight but then he hears the unmistakable howling cries of Oli and hushed tones of Louis trying to calm him down but Harry's heart doesn't stop hammering in his ribcage because there's something most definitely wrong.

Somehow, from somewhere, Harry manages to scramble towards the source of the noise and it's coming from the bathroom, soft whimpers ricocheting off the tiles as he stumbles into the room. The sight unravelling before him is disconcerting and horrifying enough to have him freezing on the spot.

The withered, convulsing body of Oli is strewn across the floor as Louis cradles his head in his lap, one hand running through the little boy's hair with shaking fingers as the other riffles manically through the medical cupboard under the sink.

Of course when Harry finally takes the plunge and steps into the havoc of the room he trips on air and nearly flails into the bathtub. Catching himself on the shower head, he straightens up and yet Louis hasn't even flinched at his arrival. Harry counts it as a mini win. Mini because Louis seems otherwise preoccupied to be worrying about Harry and his clumsiness.

“Harry, I need you to grab Oli's inhaler from the night stand in our room please. Quickly now,” Louis' voice is the picture of calm but there's unbridled fear lurking beneath the surface which has Harry hurrying out of the room and carrying out Louis' request at a speed that could rival Usain Bolt. Maybe.

When he gets back, Louis has Oli sat up between his open legs, back pressed against Louis' front as they lean on the side of the bathtub. The little boy's eyes have a vacant expression and his lips have a tinge of blue as his throat constricts and cuts off any oxygen. His body is still spasming as Louis gets the plastic between Oli's lips and instructs him sternly to breathe deeply.

Louis has a strong arm wrapped around Oli's waist as he holds his child still and close to him, coaches the toddler as he takes jagged puffs of breath from the inhaler. Harry backs against the wall and slides down until he hits the floor, eyes still wide and unsettled.

He watches on for what feels like hours as Oli's breathing finally equilibrates and the tiny motions of his chest rising and falling are even again. Harry stays sitting, earlier exhaustion forgotten, as Oli falls asleep and Louis picks him up to no doubt take to their room. When Louis' back, Harry's still on the floor watching the empty space because what the _hell_ just happened?

“Is-” He has to take a second to clear the frog in his throat and Louis looks at him like he should be concerned. “Is he alright now?”

“He should be, yeah. Are _you_ alright?” Louis crouches down in front of him and he feels like a little child again.

“I think so. What just happened?” Harry's hands are shaking.

“He had an asthma attack, probably induced by the pneumonia. Doctors said there was a high possibility of it happening.” Louis explains still looking at him warily.

“How are you so calm?” Harry asks to clear the awkward silence that settles over them.

“You learn to put on a calm mask when you're looking straight at the face of danger. Inside, i'm a fucking mess.”

Louis settles opposite him, their legs laying side by side but not touching. Definitely not touching.

“Wanna talk about it?” the younger boy offers, forcing himself to calm down at the close proximity of the other considering their last encounter.

“Not really.” Louis sighs. “What's there to talk about when your only child has difficulties breathing and sometimes is incapable of drawing oxygen into his lungs because his bronchioles are inflamed and I can't reach his inhaler because I stupidly left it in our room when I _heard_ him having an attack in the bathroom and -” His words accelerate until they're barely illiterate and Harry has to intervene.

“Stop. Louis, there's nothing you can do about these things.”

“No you don't understand because there _is-”_

“Oli's fine now. Relax, he's safe.” Harry's scrambled forward so he's kneeling before Louis and his hands are perched lightly on his shoulders. “You did the best you could do and he's fine.”

“But he's still so young and what if you weren't-” Louis starts up again and his eyes are misty and clouded.

“Shut up. Seriously, there's no point dwelling on what if's and – wait. What if I weren't what?” Harry's grip on Louis' shoulders tighten imperceptibly.

“What if you weren't there. Thank you. For getting his inhaler. For being there.” the elder breathes as his whole body deflates on an exhale. Louis' sort of upset and confused and he sort of wants to kiss Harry right now. But he doesn't.

Instead he rests his head against Harry's and whispers a _thankyousomuch._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rainingnostalgia dot tumblr dot com  
> yknow in case you want to drop me an ask about how much i suck at updating haha


	11. Rupture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's hard having to be with someone else when the right one comes along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiiiiiii.
> 
> i literally had to force myself to sit down and write this and i'm so glad because this fic is so nearly finished which means that i will have finished my first ever fanfiction, yay!  
> on the other hand, endless apologies to you all for how badly i slacked on updating. i really am sorry!  
> but here have a nice long, kind of longish, chapter to make up for it!  
> and thanks so much for all your kudos and comments, they really make my day :)
> 
> happy reading :3

There is a silent incredulity that passes round Zayn, Niall and Liam and Louis puts it down to the distinctly obvious drop in the level of tension surrounding Louis and Harry. 

Harry's mentally counting down the hours and minutes for how ever long it takes until one of them cracks and asks him what happened. He can see the curiosity burning in their eyes and pooling in shared glances that they think he doesn't notice. It's amusing to say the least, watching them tread egg shells around Louis and him in case they do something that might upset the balance of harmony between them.

At dinner, Niall nearly chokes on a carrot when Louis plants himself next to Harry, so close that their sides brush up along side each other and Harry can see Liam thumping Niall on the back out of the corner of his eye. He acts indifferent when Oli tugs on his curls and asks him to cut up his sausages, leaving Zayn wide eyed and gormless from across the table.

Nobody questions them when Harry plucks up enough courage to go to the park with Louis and Oli for a kick about and an ice cream. Let the paparazzi have a field day and see if he cares, Harry thinks because he's so _done_ with hiding.

When night falls and Harry's nestled into his blankets, he absolutely does not expect the door to open and for Louis and Oli to file in and clamber onto his bed. He welcomes them into the warmth without hesitation and spends the night adjusting back into old routine of counting every rise and fall of Louis' chest but this time without the feeling of the weight of the world on his shoulders.

One Direction leave for recording and promo season, and Harry makes Louis a playlist and coyly hands it over with a nervous smile as Louis sends him off with one of Oli's drawings from school that depicts the three of them lying cosily in bed. 

The reconciliation and transition are unspoken and Harry's not in any rush to bring it up since Louis seems fine not acknowledging it. They carry on building their silent bridges with more determination and resolution than when they were first constructed; foundations of their relationship – or whatever they are – twice as strong as before. Twice as hard to break down.

Zayn doesn't give him scathing looks whenever he enters the room any more yet Harry _knows_ it was Zayn who lost his favourite bandanna. He fucking knows it. 

Still, Harry would prefer to have lost it rather than have a bloody nose. 

Things are looking up, finally, and Harry's more than willing to embrace the change.

The boys have just come back from a long and arduous radio interview tour and as soon as they step foot through the front door, a strong waft of dough and tomato hits them. Turning into the living room, there's trays upon trays of what appears to be home made pizza and big litre bottles of cola scattered on the coffee table.

Oli's sitting on Louis' shoulders waving a plastic cup in his chubby little fist, a yelled “Surprise!” falling from his lips when he spots Harry, Liam and Niall.

There's an echo of suitcases thumping on the carpet from where they're dropped carelessly and Zayn's popping up from behind the sofa shouting a belated “Boo!” and branding a six pack of Strongbow.

It's more of a lads night in than a welcome home surprise and after Oli's been put to bed, they flick on the footie and take it in turns shotgunning the left over cider and launching pieces of meat from the pizza into each other's mouths from across the room. Everyone else is too busy preoccupied with who ate the last slice of pizza to notice Harry catching Louis by the waist and leaning in to touch their lips together for a brief moment. It goes by quicker than a flash of lightening but strikes a warmness into Harry's veins and leaves him extraordinarily happier than before. 

Without a shred of doubt in his mind, Harry knows he's utterly gone for this boy and with the way Louis' eyes twinkle when they share back at him, it's almost like every laceration carved by each lie he's told has healed. Maybe not completely but enough for them to function together sans any friction.

They skip the Lord of the Rings marathon the other boys have set up and in the safety of their room Harry gives Louis rock from Blackpool and a horrendously tacky fridge magnet from Skegness. Louis rolls his eyes so hard it must hurt but he accepts them nonetheless, his lips pulled up at the corners against his will.

“In an alternative universe where things were much simpler, we'd be having sweet, sweet, reunion sex right now.” Louis has this brashness in his eyes that makes Harry choke on his tongue when he comprehends what he says and he immediately slaps a hand over his mouth in fear of waking Oli.

Louis rolls his eyes again. Harry wonders when that became a thing.

He thinks that maybe it's always been a _thing_ but he never took the time to notice it. Much like how he never noticed before how many different sides to Louis there are and how brightly they all shine. “And in that alternative universe, y'know, metaphorically speaking, where would we stand?”

Louis' silent, head down as he studies the bedspread underneath them. “I think that, metaphorically speaking of course, I forgive you and want to move past all the shit that went down in the past few weeks.”

“You do?” Harry dare not get his hopes up and tries to quell the way his heart seems to sing in relief.

“Yeah. I think that you're worth so much more than everything we've gone through. Took me a while to realise that, yeah erm, sorry, sue me. And also being without you is a million times harder than living a lie.” For all his jokes and wise cracks, Louis isn't insensitive. He isn't desensitised to the point of alienating himself from his emotions yet his declaration stuns them both. 

“But we don't live in an alternative universe where we speak in metaphors.” Harry says sadly and it feels like every baby step they take forwards, it results in a stride back and that they're just fluctuating without making any progress.

“No. We don't.”

Harry knows that dejected tone and he knows that it doesn't mean good news. “But I am sorry. Really sorry. And more than willing to make it up to you.” He's spent so long apologising and if it hasn't gotten through before then he isn't going to bother trying again. He hopes the other boy understands the meaning behind his meagre apology nonetheless.

Louis' not used to this. He knows about rejection and heartbreak, hell, they're practically coded into his DNA, but he doesn't know remedy and it's like being thrown into a deep, deep ocean without a hand to help him. He's so out of his depth and he's so _lost_ and it's scary.

“I know Haz. But not metaphorically speaking, I don't think I'd trust you like before. Just, putting that out there. Y'know, so you know.”

“Yeah, I get that. And for what it's worth, if we got to do this again, start fresh from the beginning, I know that this time i'd make all the right decisions.”

“I know.”

“So, speaking in a literal sense. Where does that put us now?”

“I think that, perhaps, one more chance wouldn't be the end of the world. If neither of us cocks it up.”

Harry's grinning like the Chesire cat because that's exactly what he wanted to hear. Maybe not exactly but the point is still there. He takes Louis' hand in his and traces the lines on his palm with his pinky finger. “Lou, one more chance is all we need.” 

∞∞∞

Recovering is harder than Harry initially suspected. 

Between the fact that _nobody_ really trusts him whenever management pull him in for meetings and Zayn's not so subtle threats and the barrier that Louis constructs against him which was definitely not there before, it's hard to catch a break.

Sometimes the universe gifts him with little gems that make him strive to keep going, like when Oli starts calling him Uncle Harry again or when Louis' natural, unconstrained laugh returns more frequently. It fuels the little box in his mind labelled “atonement” and he keeps going.

He even maxes out one of his credit cards on a brand new wardrobe for Oli and driving lessons for Lou. It might be excessive but Harry would rather be safe than sorry. At one point Louis forbade him from buying him Starbucks; complains that his teeth will fall out soon or that he'll overdoes on caffeine. Harry grinned sheepishly and pecked him on the cheek.

Harry pays Niall, Liam and Zayn to babysit Oli for a night whilst he takes Louis out for dinner at some high end restaurant in Canary Whalf. Louis complains half heartedly about being under dressed but stops when their mains are brought out and he's too busy preoccupied trying not to blatantly drool over the fancy tablecloth. They pick at each others deserts, fighting with their forks for the last piece of Harry's cheesecake before people watching and giving the couples around them elaborate back stories and trying to determine why exactly the waiter at table nine is walking with a limp. They giggle into their fists when the bill is produced and the waitress pointedly angles her attention towards Harry, completely oblivious to the fact that Harry's attention is fixated elsewhere.

Louis ignores that fact that they're being smuggled at the back exit, focuses instead on the weight of Harry's palm in his.

Harry takes him apart and licks him out on the back seats of his Range Rover and Louis praises the lord for blacked out windows. 

The road to recovery isn't smooth and Louis of all people knows it.

There's times late at night when his mind is turning turning turning and his thoughts twist and evolve and grow into malicious regrets and wrong decisions that haunt him into lying awake, paralysed in paranoia. It's hard to snap out of it, Harry's steady breathing next to him either soothes his pounding heart and thumping head or aggravates it further. The _what if's_ and _buts_ cloud his mind like a poisonous fog that obscures what he really wants, leaving him confused and bewildered. Sometimes he feels sick and has to be excused from his lecture, stands out in the hallway, pressed against the wall trying to catch his breath and waiting for the nausea to pass.

Harry can tell. Of course he can. For such a slow talker, he's unnaturally alert.

It's in the way Louis' fork falters slightly when he's swirling his spaghetti around his plate, or when his gaze glazes over and goes unfocused, or when his tongue isn't quite sharp enough and his biting remarks come out mild and weak. And Louis is not mild or weak. Louis' loud and brash like thunder and electric enough to have everyone's eyes lighting up at a witty comment and Harry will kiss him softy to revive that brightness, so he's shining even brighter than before.

∞∞∞

There's a load of shit spread out on the living room floor when Harry comes down for breakfast one morning. Not literally, of course.

Liam's trying to work the Aga in the kitchen with Niall as Oli rolls around the living room with spaceman swimming trunks over the top of his pyjama bottoms. He's sausage rolling right into Harry's path and he doesn't hesitate in scooping the little boy up and cradling him in his arms. Harry's running around the room and swinging the boy up into the air only to swoop him down low again.

“Spaceman Oliver takes his first mission to Mars. Lift Off! Oh no! What's this? The rocket is being attacked by aliens!” He begins to shake Oli gently, little disjointed squeals being emitted from the toddler as he holds onto the elder for dear life. “Spaceman Harry! Spaceman Harry! Help me fight the aliens!” he yells when Harry puts him down. 

Harry's arms are sore from the early morning impromptu workout and he huffs trying to catch his breath. It's definitely too early for exercise he decides grimly whilst patting the boy on his head and encouraging him to ask Niall for help fighting the imaginary aliens.

Louis grinning at him when Harry comes over to hug him from behind. “What are you laughing at?” He's got his face smushed into Louis' neck so it's a wonder his words are actually understandable. “You, you dork.”

“Heeeeeey.” Harry tightens his arms around his boy and begins to nuzzle his nose into the soft dowdy hair at the nape of Louis' neck. “Zayn, tell Louis to stop being mean.”

Zayn's carefully packing a rucksack with clean towels and spare underwear and he scoffs a “Get lost, the pair of you,” without missing a beat.

“Rude,” Louis sniffs as he collects arm bands and goggles off the floor to put into the bag. Harry reluctantly lets go of him and he feels instantly colder without the other boy pressed against him. It suddenly strikes him that there's an inflatable dolphin by his feet and he wonders whether he actually woke up this morning. “Wait. What's going on?”

“Zee's talking Oli swimming later cause work called me in last minute.” Louis explains and Harry feels kinda upset that he was the last to know but considering it was because he was sleeping in, maybe it's unnecessary and he feels a bit foolish for thinking that Louis purposely didn't tell him.

He wants to offer to go with Zayn but stops himself just in time because he may or may not have a meeting with management that Louis may or may not know about. That Louis definitely does not know about. Instead he nods casually and prods at an armband that is way too big to he Oli's. “These are rather.....big?”

“That's cause they're Zee's.” 

Harry frowns and catches Louis' gaze from across the room, asking a silent _why?_

Louis points to Zayn and shakes his head whilst pretending to swim before dramatically miming someone drowning and gasping for air. He grabs for his throat before slamming against the wall and sliding down pathetically. Harry giggles, fucking giggles, because he's in love with an idiot. And because Harry finds everything Louis does funny.

“I can see you in the reflection of the telly, twat.” Zayn comments idly before valiantly trying to zip the brimming rucksack up.

Louis rolls his eyes fondly.

∞∞∞

Harry's crouched down, hiding surreptitiously behind a very large pot plant.

He would be pretty decently disguised if it weren't for Liam and Niall standing close by and looking down at him.

“Harry, mate, we know you're upset, yeah? But I don't think this is helping.” Liam The-Voice-Of-Reason Payne says with that concerning expression on his face that makes Harry want to hit himself for creating. Niall's turned away and started waving jovially at the sea of paparazzi pressed against the hotel's glass doors, evidently bored of Harry's little meltdown.

“I just need a sec, Li. Brace myself for that,” Harry cuts off and motions towards where Niall is still waving enthusiastically. “They're like vultures today.” His breathing isn't quite regular yet and he hates the staccato rhythm it creates.

“They're like vultures everyday,” Liam laughs tiredly, offering a smile towards the blinding pinpricks that are flashes. “Bloody paparazzi.” It's rather comical how Liam's basically bitching straight to their faces and Harry stifles a snigger into his hand. He still feels like there's not enough air in his lungs.

Their meeting hadn't exactly been the most productive but it was still progress. 

No wonder Harry was gasping for breath, arguing with their PR and management team to let him come out was pretty fucking hard work. Chairs were thrown, windows were smashed, tables upturned and glasses of water launched at unsuspecting victims. Well in Harry's imagination that happened. In reality, he snapped a cheap plastic pen in half, knocked a bottle of water over (by accident because sometimes he has a _really_ hard time controlling his movements but they never have to know that) and scraped back his chair rather ferociously. 

It's not exactly rock star behaviour but Harry's not an ignorant asshole and he actually respects his surroundings.

Instead he used the power of reason and the art of persuasion to try and dissuade them from keeping him in the closet, Liam and Niall by his side and backing up his every point and giving their support like loyal soldiers.

They laughed at him at first.

It was like a jab to his stomach but no where near strong enough to deter him and he persisted until they brought out the patronising facts like _you do you realise what impact it will have on your fans don't you?_ or _you don't want to upset them do you?_

He let it gloss over him because of course he knows all this, it's been a constant parasite tormenting his brain and eating away at his sanity for months. He won't let them win this because he's so fucking done with being a faceless puppet without a voice. 

When they _strongly recommended_ him to drop the idea, he pulled out his pièce de resistance and threatened to out himself regardless of their agreement on the matter. Of course that got their attention and had them backtracking, asking him _not to be so hasty_ and he was one hundred percent not bluffing. He would do it and the more he reiterated the fact, the more they relented. It's funny to see them cower when the power was reversed.

Predominately, it was a success and Harry will count it in his favour but there's still a worrying finality and lack of actual action in the parting words of _Thank you Harry, we will take it into consideration._

It's precisely the reason why he hasn't told Louis.

He doesn't much fancy getting Louis' hopes up if it all goes tits up and they end up at square one.

They somehow manage to make it out of the building and into the waiting car alive, Harry's mind only half there as he smiles politely and waves through the window at the mass of faceless silhouettes racing past.

He gets a text message from an unknown number three days later and it's an epiphany and a heart attack all in one.

_Your contract with Miss Swift will be terminated on the eve of December the 31 st. You are to abide by the contract terms and conditions until the afore mentioned date, after which you are free to either extend the contract or take action affiliated with another contract. All decisions can be made with the help of the PR team. This is non negotiable. Thank you._

At first Harry doesn't understand; there's too much formality embedded in those five sentences. He gets Liam to proof read it. It is what he thinks it is.

He can't wait to tell Lou.

∞∞∞

Timing is everything. 

Harry wants to tell him that night in bed when they're tucked up and cosy but Oli's caught in the throes of a nightmare and they spend the early hours of the morning coaxing the toddler back to sleep.

It seems like Louis' always either working or studying and now Harry's given up, just going to wait for the opportune moment to present itself considering that now Niall's dragged Louis into their garden for a round of pre-dinner football.

He revels in the quaint atmosphere, lets it wash over him and drown him. It's soothing and his mind buzzes in excitement because soon it'll all be over. 

It's two days after he received the text and they're all gathered around the living room tv, Titanic rolling across the screen. Niall's openly crying, head buried in the hollow of Zayn's neck with a hand fisted in his shirt, face red and blotchy. Louis' a little more conserved, pillow smushed against his face with just his eyes poking out as Rose futilely shakes at Jack to wake him up because there are rescue boats approaching. Harry's hand squeezes around the elder's and he presses a line of kisses along his knuckles. His stomach falls through the soles of his feet when Louis flings the cushion away from his face and crowds into his side, tiny hands clasped over his eyes as his shoulders begin to tremble.

“Lou, are you-”

“It's so emotional, leave me alone.” he whines through Harry's shirt and Harry winds his arms around the small boy's shoulders, hugging him firmly. 

“There's a boat, Jack!” Harry recites an octave higher than his usual drawl. “Shut up, you brute,” Louis hicoughs, aiming a slap to Harry's shoulder.

A shower of popcorn rains over them from Liam's direction; Louis' shaking his head like a wet down to dislodge the sweet corn snack as Harry flicks one back at Liam. “Get a fucking room.”

“Don't judge me Liam, I'm trying my best,” Harry's arms circle around Louis' waist again, squeezing tight to reinforce his point. There's a second where he thinks he can hear the sound of tyres crunching on gravel outside but it passes as soon as he acknowledges it and so he puts it down to the turbulent rumble of the washing machine in the kitchen.

Leonardo's beautiful face freezes on the flatscreen and there's a collective silence from the five of them holding their breaths before the TV fuzzes to black and a chorus of disgruntled complains is released. It's barely seconds later when the lights flick out and the hum of electrical appliances all around the house begin to fade out.

The door to the living room begins to creak open and Louis' moments away from screaming bloody murder when a pint sized shadow dances into the hallway, tiny feet pattering on the hard wood flooring as Oli scutters into his lap. “Daddy, Daddy. All the light is gone!”

It's gut instinct and remoulded into his system to protect his boy and he's hoisting the toddler into the tiny gap between him and Harry, bringing the blanket around his shoulders as a means of protection. “S'alright love, the power's just gone out. You'll be fine, baby boy, we're all here. Just gotta get the power working again.” Louis frantically catches Harry's eyes to relay the hint that he's trying to non-verbally express.

“Oh, right, erm. The electricity box is in the garage. It just needs to be reset, that's all. Happens all the time.” Harry stutters into life. He's got a giant hand wrapped soothingly around Oli's knee and a frown marring his face that Louis wants to wipe away because it doesn't suit Harry at all.

“Shot gun not me.” Niall quips into the darkness just as Harry's finished speaking.

“I volunteer Liam as tribute.” Harry injects straight after, a giggle rolling off his tongue and even in the darkness and anonymity of the situation that Louis absolutely _hates_ , he still feels safe with his two favourites boys. His foot nudges around until he finds Harry's and he wraps their ankles together, bites his tongue to stop the smile erupting on his face and to stop the rampaging butterflies from escaping the confines of his stomach. It's wonderful.

“You're all pansies.” Liam grumbles half-heartedly, already making his way towards the door.

Oli's head is resting on Louis' lap, not entirely awake any more when the lights buzz back in to life.

Niall's reaching for the remote to test the TV when the door opens.

Only it's not Liam.

And Louis doubts whether Liam would be able to grow long blonde hair, a pair of boobs and magically change the colour of his eyes in the short space of time he'd been absent from the room.

“Taylor? What-what are you _doing_ here?” Harry's leaping off the sofa, hands twisting manically in the air as if he's trying to control traffic. Louis tries to push down the irritation that's reared its ugly head but he can feel it multiplying with every breath he takes. 

She doesn't speak at first. Just surveys the people in the room like a new born foal, curiosity burning in her irises, eyes lingering on Louis and Oli longer than he would like. “I found this.” She reaches into her tailored coat pocket and unfolds a torn piece of notepad paper with slender, trembling fingers. “It was in a pair of jeans you left at my hotel room the other day.”

It's not her voice that has Louis inhaling the air like gasoline, ignition rupturing his lungs as fire escapes with every breath he tries to control. It's the fact that Harry, his wonderful Harry, had left his jeans at _her_ hotel the other day and he didn't even know that Harry had gone to see her, much less leave items of his dwindling wardrobe at hers.

He wants to pretend that it doesn't bother him. Wants to trust his Harry. Wants to believe that there was some sort of mix up or that this is all some kind of weird joke that he doesn't quite understand. 

Only, Harry's not saying anything.

There's no protest or denial and it cuts at Louis like a thousand shards of glass scratching at his already worn skin in a tell tale way of saying “i told you so.”

“Harry, what's she on about?” and bless Niall. Oblivious Niall who saves Louis the job of having to ask.

Louis hasn't the foggiest as to what's scrawled on the paper but he can tell it's Harry's writing by the cursive script that's always slightly slanted to the right. 

Harry doesn't answer. He looks pained and it rips at Louis' chest even more.

“Go on, Harry. Tell them what you wrote.” Taylor's calm demeanour has shifted and there's fire blazing enough in her eyes to rival Louis, the two of them threatening to consume the room in a flume of ash and smoke.

“Harry?” It's a miracle that Louis' voice doesn't break.

There's a million and one things that Louis needs to do in that moment. He wants to push Taylor out the door and lock it behind her. Wants to take Oli upstairs to safety before shit begins to go down. Wants to rewind to when Harry nearly had a panic attack on the cold floor of the bathroom after seeing Oli suffer an asthma attack and tell himself that it's not worth it. Recovery does not mean trust and boy does Louis know that now. 

Harry's still fish mouthing, head spinning wildly between Louis and Taylor, tongue unsure of how to react.

So Taylor does it for him. “If you don't tell them I will.”

Something in those seven words seem to shock Harry out of whatever trance he was paralysed by and he's turning now, grasping Louis' arm harder than necessary. “It's not what it looks like. I swear to god, Lou, it's not what you think.” Harry's eyes are large and pleading and everything Louis really does not want to see right now. All he wants for once is the straight truth.

Taylor makes a soft noise in the back of her throat before reading. “Pros and Cons for Taylor. Pros and Cons for Louis -” 

She doesn't get any further as Harry's leaping across, deer legs flying madly as he reaches her, snatching the paper from her hands. “That's enough.”

Louis' never ever heard him like that before. The mix of anger, sternness and general don't-fuck-with-me attitude stirs something inside Louis as he watches Harry, slightly awe-struck and slightly in fear. There's too many emotions ricocheting around his ribcage. The pure upset that comes from hearing that Harry resulted in making a fucking _list_ of reasons why to and why not to be with him because the choice was just not that _simple_ devastates him like a tornado whirling around his addled mind.

“You had no right to go rummaging around in my pockets.” If that's the only thing Harry has to say then he can stuff it because Louis wants more than that right now, in fact, he _deserves_ more.

“I'm not sure you had the right to make that list in the first place,” Taylor mocks and it's weird seeing her like this. A figure of discontent and annoyance, a stark contrast to her public image of the girl next door crying tear drops on her guitar.

There's more arguing between the two, each of them trying to gain the upper hand over the other and it sort of fades to a white noise humming low in Louis' ears as he begins to zone out, mind whipping up scenarios and escape routes.

He's not sure exactly when Oli woke up but his son's cries cause a ripple effect on the room, voices dying down like a calming storm as Louis scoops the boy into his arms to shield him from reality. He moves to take the boy upstairs but there's a hand latching around his bicep and it burns and soothes at the same time.

“No, Louis, don't. We're done here. Taylor is just leaving.” Harry says, desperate and pleading and everything else that knocks him off his feet and makes him want to run far, far away. 

“Louis. From the coffee shop. I knew you looked familiar. I don't forget a face,” Sizing Louis up with beady little eyes that make his skin crawl, she rakes over the toddler bawling into his chest and it has him clutching Oli closer to him as if she might suddenly lash out and steal him away. His head's filled with tangled thoughts and his heart is hammering away in his chest with too many nameless emotions and he needs to get _out,_ needs to _breathe._

She slides forward with a predatory gaze, fingers uncurling and curling into fists by her side, Louis edging back until the back of his knees hit the sofa. 

“I didn't think it'd be you out of all people. I knew there was someone, but not you.”

Taylor's advancing further and Louis' forced to put Oli down and usher him over to Zayn's waiting arms because he doesn't like where this is going. She moves until they're toe to toe and she looms perilously over him and Louis' never felt smaller. 

He wants to know why Harry isn't doing anything. Why isn't he stopping her? Why isn't he intervening? Oh. Maybe because even after all this time and all they've been through, he still doesn't have the balls to stand up for Louis. Ouch.

It fucking hurts to think about yet alone acknowledge.

“Louis. Do you trust him?” Taylor says and for a fraction of a second, she looks just like the scared little girl forced into fame that the world saw for the first time all those years ago. Her face is a blank canvas just waiting to be filled and Louis' scared of saying the wrong thing, staining the page. He looks at Harry and his endlessly emerald gaze of hidden messages and secret apologies. Harry and his stupidly big heart with too much love to give and yet not enough. Harry's incessant care and larger than life attitude that Louis can't quite match. 

Harry's watching him carefully in trepidation and it's all the rainy mornings they've spent in bed together, every subtle caress of their hands when they venture outside and burning heat from time spent wrapped up in each other and Louis doesn't know. But he does. And maybe he doesn't want to know. 

“Lou?” Harry breathes and they're both glassy eyed and scared and it's not wonderful any more.

“No.” Louis says in a small voice feeling too small for the world.

He can see the whoosh of air from Harry's parted lips and the hurt that ripples across his face. But he won't lie. 

Taylor doesn't look as satisfied as Louis expected. She looks pained and he wonders whether between them there's enough upset to distinguish the sun and smoother all happiness and love from the universe. Possibly.

“But. But are you happy?” there's a mop of curls hovering over him suddenly and gentle hands gripping his shoulders and Harry's teary face next to his. And yes, yes of course he's happy. It's just unfortunate that happiness and trust are worlds away from each other. The younger nods sadly when he voices this. “Louis I didn't tell you because I didn't think it was important. Everything has changed now and she doesn't mean anything, she never has. It's you, it's always been you. I wanted to tell you later but-”

“So you thought it'd be all right to lead me on regardless?” Taylor butts in like a poisonous arrow intent on destruction.

“I didn't lead you on. It was part of the contract.” and Harry's a shield of gold sent from the gods to deter her and Louis hangs on to him tighter. His emotions are unravelled like a ball of string, stretching out too far and threatening to snap.

“You didn't _have_ to introduce me to your parents. You didn't _have_ to fly around the world to visit me in the dead of night. You didn't _have_ to pick me up at the airport in the early hours of the morning but _you did._ ” Taylor's shrieking, she might be crying but Louis can't tell. She resembles a heartbroken fan girl and that's, in essence, exactly what she is. 

Louis kind of feels sorry for her.

“I'm sorry if I ever led you to think that we were something more than friends. It was only ever meant to the cameras.” Harry whispers and the guilt is evident in his tone, hand reaching for Louis' for comfort.

“You're not fucking _sorry._ It's taken me all this time to realise that this is all just an inconvenience to you and that as soon as i'm gone you can get back to your little booty call.” She sniffs tartly, arms crossed firmly over her heaving chest.

“Excuse me?” Harry's eyes bulge and Louis coughs out a “How very dare you” before there's a hand launching towards him and a stinging sensation running across his cheek; the ring of skin on skin contact sounding sharp in his ears.

The force of her hand knocks him off kilter and into Harry's supportive chest, gangly arms immediately coming to break his fall as Liam backs her away from them. 

That really fucking hurt.

Righting himself in Harry's embrace he looks to Oli who's all out screaming from Zayn's lap, little arms outstretched towards him.

Never hit a woman. Never hit a woman. Never hit a woman.

If his life were a soap opera, this would be the climatic moment. He's almost convinced that someone's going to shout “cut” and a director will appear fro nowhere and commend them on their acting.

Harry guides him to the sofa and he feels like an incapable old man. 

He watches with shocked eyes as Harry shouts, _shouts,_ at Taylor. He hears the phrase “it's over” “contract” “null” being thrown about and then she's gone in a rush of tears and rustling fabric. He's vaguely aware of Oli scrambling onto his knee and patting his cheek softly before Harry's pulling them both up and into a bear hug, speaking apology after apology into his hair. He follows it up with reassurances that it's all over now and there's a foreign feeling blossoming in his chest. It sparkles like heated magnesium, incandescence melting into his blood and warming his fingertips. 

Harry smiles a watery grin at him and it's a mini supernova, infectious and brilliant and relieved. 

He can feel the other boys rallying round in support and it makes his heart skip a beat.

There's familiar hands on his hips, electrifying his skin like they should be there permanently and he leans into Harry. Breathes him in deep as he lingers in his arms, curls scratching his nose as he smiles against his neck. 

“It's you and I now. Only you and I.”

Contention suffocates his lungs yet he's never felt more alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> phew. it's such a relief after writing this since the synopsis of this chapter was so hard to put into words.  
> hope you enjoyed it and please let me know what you think!
> 
> visit me on tumblr ~ rainingnostalgia ~ to drop me a message, leave me a prompt or bug me to update haha i love talking to you guys :)


End file.
